


Roses, Bel Air, Take Me There

by Lady_Iwaizumi



Series: Haikyuu Song Fics galore [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, Alternate Universe - Yakuza, Alternate Universe-Mafia, Angst, Animal Shelter, Assassins & Hitmen, Forced Prostitution, Friends to Lovers, Gangs, Japanese Arts, Kidnapping, Knotting, M/M, Mafia AU, Melancholy, Minor Character Deaths, Minor Characters GALORE, Murder, Omega Verse, Poverty, Prostitution, Scent Kink, Scent Marking, Siblings Yachi & Terushima, Song fic, Strippers & Strip Clubs, Yaku has a cat..., cinnamon roll heaven, forced impregnation, happy endings, lana del rey songs, libero heaven, mild violence, rare pairs, shibayama is precious protect him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-30
Updated: 2017-10-02
Packaged: 2018-12-19 23:54:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 15
Words: 121,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11908872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Iwaizumi/pseuds/Lady_Iwaizumi
Summary: Terushima Yuuji, alpha, head of the Johzenji special forces, spends his Friday nights searching for the little sister he lost so many years ago; Futamata Takeharu, omega, stripper and Fan Show performer, is just trying to get by with what little income he has--while much of his profit goes towards his captor, the little bits and pieces left go to lending a hand to the other kidnapped members of the Delicate Roses:In a world where Takeharu could be forced into prostitution or, worse, be made a "knotting freebie," the past connection he has with a certain brown-eyed girl named Yachi Terushima locks his life with the wild gang leader Yuuji.Could Haru's painful past be the key to his escape of this oppressive life? Or will this connection place he and his friends in even MORE danger?





	1. The Delicate Roses

**Author's Note:**

> The first story of the "Paradise" collection, titles all borrowed from lyrics of Lana Del Rey songs. Welcome to the beautiful world of Bel Air, where rare-pairs melt your heart, stir your spirit, and overwhelm your mind with fluff and melancholy! Hoot hoot!  
> (To clear things up, Takeharu is the setter for Johzenji, Arata is the libero; Yuki Shibayama is the second libero for Nekoma, Akinori Konoha is a wing spiker for Fukurodani, and Haruki Komi is the libero. />  
> Tbh, I don't believe any of the Haikyuu characters would be involved in the mafia, but hey, a story's a story, and other than the fact that they sometimes kill a person here or there, I'm trying to write their characters as they are.
> 
> Thanks for reading!

_“Roses, Bel Air, take me there_

_I’ve been waiting to meet you._

_Palm trees in the light_

_I can see, late at night_

_Darling I’m waiting to greet you._

_Come to me baby…”_

_—Bel Air, Lana Del Rey_

 

 

On Friday night, 11:38 pm, a group of young men were enjoying a night in, eating lavish take-out, swapping stories about their week, laughing, and enjoying the cooling autumn breeze seeping in through the window of their two-bedroom apartment.

 

This group was called the Delicate Roses.

 

The Delicate Roses were given their name by a dark, malicious-minded man named Tanji Washijo, head of the recently fallen mafia gang of Shiratorizawa. Years earlier, Washijo had visited numerous cities all over Japan, searching for young, amiable omegas whom he would be able to turn into income-machines; after the first success of his accidental-kidnapping of a young woman named Shimizu Kiyoko, who he was able to turn into a famous lingerie model, Washijo decided that the best way to raise his name to the top of the ranks once again was by collecting the rarest, tightest, most talented group of omegas Japan had to offer.

And so, Washijo began stealing omegas, usually around the ages of eleven or twelve, and began training them for the six main forms of entertainment these poor omegas would be offering anyone who was willing to pay:

 

-Umbrella Arts

-Prostitution

-Japanese Fashion Shows (Stripping)

-Fan Shows

-Knotting Freebies

-Personal Slaves

 

Following his first batch of stolen souls, the media attention on the kidnappings forced Washijo to lay-low for many years; during this time, he decided to that the best way to have unlimited success with these children was to have the omegas go through a year of observation, where their natural talents would be spotted and used to sort them into the appropriate categories. The children were left in isolation, given food and water, a small alleyway to call a playground, with nothing to do but weep, sing, and wonder why, _why_ they had been taken away from their families. Their agony would only grow after the observation was over, when they were torn-apart from their close-knit friends and thrown into a world of greed, sex, and money.

 

This method had only worked once for Washijo; the result was as we see now, six young omega men living between two apartments.

 

Futamata Takeharu, a 22-year-old omega, lived in one apartment, which he shared with his best friends Arata and Yuki; Haru was a tall, playful young man, somewhat of a daydreamer with a competitive, optimistic nature. He worked as a dishwasher at a local 5-star restaurant, and his Delicate Rose duties included Umbrella Arts and Fan Shows, since his body was not yet “built enough” for prostitution or Japanese Fashion Shows.

Arata Tsuchiyu, another 22-year-old, liked to cuddle with his besties in bed, and would frequently snuggle-in beside Haru or Yuki whenever he was feeling down. Arata was small, agile, and precious; the second quality is the only characteristic that helps with his Delicate Rose duty of being a prostitute. Even though Tsucchi was a beta, his light tan hair and thin build made him petite and beautiful, enlightening his image to the point of being a fan-favorite during Fan Shows. Washijo said if he didn’t look so worried all the time, he might attract more customers—whether or not Arata looked more worried because of this comment or because he would love to not have more customers, no one except he knew.

 

Little Yuki Shibayama was fragile and sweet; the shortest out of the bunch at 5’4, he was frequently mistaken for a young teen, the assumption backed-up by his wide, dark eyes and bright, eager smile; Yuki’s jet black hair made him a charming omega, and even though he was tense 24/7, he drew-in many customers during his umbrella and stripping shows. To escape from his depressing, unfair life, he volunteered at the animal shelter a good 30 blocks away, which he walked every day without making a single complaint—as long as he got to see the dogs wagging their tails at him, it was always worth it.

Living across the hall was beta Ennoshita Chikara and omega Tadashi Yamaguchi; they were a bonded paid without being bonded. Ennoshita acted as the guardian for the nervous Yamaguchi, although he had his share of nerves, being a Personal Servant for many rich mafia men, which basically entailed him to do nothing but wear a sexy maid outfit while cleaning the already-spotless mansions…

Yamaguchi, ever the sensitive soul, worked in the Umbrella Fan category, the Fan Shows, and the Japanese Fashion Shows; he managed to do all these things without injuring his pride and innocence too heavily, but like with everyone, these degrading lines of work eventually take their toll; Tadashi dealt with this by memorizing lines from his favorite sitcoms, and sometimes, he would even volunteer as a background character for commercials. It got him out of the apartment a couple hours a week, and $40 to his paycheck didn’t hurt, either.

 

The sixth member of this group of friends was Akinori Konoha.

 

Konoha had it the worst of the six; he acted as both a prostitute _and_ a personal servant. Washijo determined that he could be used for nothing else, given his heavy-lidded eyes, covering just the right part of his black irises where he looked seductive, although Konoha himself thought this made him looked “baked like a fucking cake.” When someone rescued him from this horrible life, he prayed they would be able to see through both of those angles, and instead, saw a relaxed, laid-back, cool kind of guy who they saw potential in. Akinori would go between sleeping on the couches in his friends’ apartments; sometimes, on a really, _really_ good day for him, he would cuddle-in with Arata at the foot of Haru’s bed, sometimes tickling his feet, sometimes asking Haru to do it to him, on days when he wasn’t sure if what he was feeling was emotion or…

 

Well… _anything_.

 

These Delicate Roses _were_ , in a sense, delicate—maybe they were born with this softness, only to have it taken advantage of by a wretched, deceptive, perverted old bastard, who stripped their natural beauty for nothing more than entertainment purposes, one of the _lowest_ forms of entertainment in the world; despite all this horror, poverty, sadness and hopelessness, the friends managed to keep their lives (and sanity) balanced by treating themselves to take-out once a month, if sales were good. It helped them to know that there was a better quality of life, hanging in the top of tree, ready for someone to come swooping in and claim another stake.

 

Take-out performs many wonders.

 

“Haru!” Yuki smiled, nudging his friend with an elbow. “Tell Arata that pick-up line you told us earlier.”

Takeharu grinned to himself as Konoha looked at him suspiciously; he was the only omega who had not heard this hilarious pick-up line yet. He watched as the dark-haired omega swallowed his last bite and cleared his throat.

“Are you second base?” Haru asked. “Because you _stole_ my heart.”

 

Everyone glanced at Konoha—Konoha himself didn’t blink, and instead tried to fathom how Haru had even come-up with such a line.

 

The other friends erupted into laughter, making the eldest shake his head, but he didn’t attempt to hold back a grin; today had been a good day for him. His two clients had paid him well, and he didn’t have to bend in painful positions to get it! Akinori was happy his friends were happy—for now, that feeling was quite enough.

Ennoshita was practically drooling over the chicken on his chopsticks, eyes wide with desire, and because a sight of Chikara “losing his composure” like that was so rare, Yamaguchi let out a loud giggle over his bite; Arata knew what he was referring to, and tried to hide his laughs in the take-out box. It was times like this when Takeharu wondered how it was possible that if they were to step outside right at this very moment, the world would be a completely different place. _How_ , he thought, quietly sitting back to watch his friends eat and joke around. _How can some hours of the day be like this…and how can the others be so_ … ** _not_** _like this?_

“I thought of something today,” Yuki said to himself.

“That’s kind of how people function, yes.” Konoha laughed.

Shibayama blushed, but it doesn’t take more than a look to make him blush.

“What were you thinking, Yuki?” Tadashi prompted, taking another bite of his rice.

“Well, it’s a question for everyone; I walked by this travel agency store today, and it got me thinking about all the different places there are in the world.” He explained, eyes shining with wonder. “And I was just wondering, if you guys could go anywhere you wanted to, where would you go?”

 

The table became a little more mellow as the boys began thinking of answers. Shibayama looked to Yamaguchi first, who was sitting to his left.

 

“Mmm…I think…I’d really like to go to New Delhi.” Tadashi said.

“There’s one right around the corner, just opened.” Konoha quirked a smile.

“Sorry, I guess I should have clarified—Delhi in _India_.” Yamaguchi explained. “The buildings are centuries old, and I’d really like to walk around and see all the different shops.”

 

Yuki nodded in amazement, then turned his attention to Ennoshita, who was deep in thought.

 

“Hollywood would be cool,” He nodded to himself. “All the movie production buildings…the palm trees…it would take a long plane ride to get there, though.”

“But this is imagination, Ennoshita!” Haru giggled. “It doesn’t take longer than a second to go there!”

Chikara smiled, his mood slipping into the one Takeharu wanted to see him in much more often: relaxed.

“What about you, Arata?”

 

The tiny tan-haired boy looked up from his food, chewing slowly as he went over his options. The boys knew he liked to travel, not necessarily with a destination, but just to get “open thinking” time while viewing different landscapes. It helped clear his anxious mind.

 

“Baltimore, Maryland, United States of America.” Tsucchi said softly, with a hint of a smile on his lips.

“That’s pretty specific,” Haru laughed. “Why there?”

Arata became still and serious, looking at his friends with purpose.

 

“Because they have the best pit beef in the world.”

 

The omegas bent over the table, knocking food containers over with their elbows as they let their laughter overwhelm their senses—it wasn’t often that they felt good enough to laugh this hard. Even Konoha wasn’t trying to control the volume of his cackles, and Haru was practically out of this world; all of this joy, simply because Arata, the 5’6, 128 pounded boy wanted to go to Maryland for the beef. Go figure.

After regaining their composure, Yuki asked Konoha where he wanted to go.

“Well I used to want to go to Tokyo.” Akinori laughed dryly. “Guess that isn’t so much of a dream now as it is my reality…”

“Tokyo’s huge,” Shibayama added quickly. “There are lots of cool places in Tokyo! Further North is good, I’ve been up there once, when Washijo needed to pick some outfits up.”

“Well, if I were to go anywhere out of Tokyo…it would probably have to be Greece.”

“Oooo!” Yamaguchi nodded furiously. “Greece is good!”

“Blue on the floor, blue on the skies.” Konoha said, smiling up at the ceiling thoughtfully. “Nothing better than blue.”

 

Shibayama hid a smile—it wasn’t often Konoha had time to think of beauty. He wished it could last longer.

 

“What about you, Takeharu?”

 

Futamata (who despised his first name more than he despised his lifestyle) didn’t answer right away; sure, he had been thinking for a few solid minutes now, trying to remember the names of the places people on the Travel Channel had visited, but after drawing blanks on all the names, a different idea came to him.

 

Last night, he had fallen asleep to the song “Bel Air” by Lana Del Rey.

 

 _Bel Air, California. Luscious green ferns, bushes, landscapes…modeled off the gardens of Kyoto, in Japan…maybe that’s why I like it so much. A place entirely based off peace, forestry, flowers of all kinds and colors, trees of all shapes and sizes…and it’s real_ , Haru thought. _It sounds too good to be true, but I’ve seen it on a map—I know that it’s real, because Lana sings about it. The palm trees, the sunlight, the stones—_

_Bel Air is real._

 

_So why am I not allowed to go there? Why can’t I go to Bel Air, the garden of roses?_

 

Haru felt the curious stares of his each of his life-long friends intensify with the wait: Shibayama’s innocent, dark orbs, Konoha’s narrow, cool rocks, Yamaguchi’s sensitive, awaiting chocolates, Chikara’s lazy, yet penetrative obsidians, and Arata’s adorable, naïve caramels…they made Haru’s answer easy.

 

“I don’t want to be anywhere you guys aren’t.” He smiled genuinely. “No matter how beautiful the location…no matter how far away it is from Apartment B4, Tokyo, Japan…I wouldn’t be able to enjoy myself if I knew you guys weren’t there to see the view with me.”

 

“Awwww Haru!” Arata cooed playfully, reaching over to wrap himself around the omega’s shoulders. “I change my answer to Haru’s!”

“Me too!” Yamaguchi beamed.

“Forget it,” Konoha said. Ennoshita stepped on his toe. “But I guess we can all go to Greece together someday.”

“Yay!” Yuki cheered. “I’ll start saving my money!”

 

Everyone laughed again, although nothing was funny about Washijo taking 55% of their paychecks every Friday and Saturday night.

 

Later, after two more hours of long, pleasant conversation, Konoha crashed on Arata’s bed with him, Ennoshita and Yamaguchi went across the hall to their apartment, hand in hand, Yuki went downstairs to retrieve the week’s laundry, and Takeharu found himself alone in his bed, listening to the bustling and hustling outside his window, and the midnight giggles coming from Tsucchi’s room next door.

 

_Bel Air…_

_Bel Air…_

_Bel Air…_

 

_Why can’t I go there?_

 

Before he could lose himself in self-deprecating thoughts, along the lines of “Why can’t you stand up for yourself?” and “The only thing holding you back is you,” Haru grabbed his headphones and his old IPod 3—the first and last gift the boys ever received from Washijo. He clicked the music and immediately went to his last played song; after getting himself situated (as situated as he could be when he knew Yuki liked to burrow himself in all of the covers), closing the window to muffle the world’s unpleasantness, Haru curled-in on himself, let his pillow form around his head, and pressed play.

 

_Gargoyles...standing at the front of your gate_

_Trying to tell me to wait_

_But I can’t wait to see you._

_So I run, like I’m mad, to heaven’s door_

_I won’t cheat you no more_

 

Takeharu slipped out the only picture he had of Bel Air, the same picture on the front of a postcard that made him fall in love with the location. The title was _Bel Air Hotel_.

Three beautiful white swans were drifting across a deep-teal pond right outside of a bungalow house surrounded by green bushes, full-leafed branches, and flowers of all different assortments. The tiny patch of sky available was light blue and flittered with fluffy white clouds; on a beautiful Sunday morning, with the early sunlight shining down on the garden, someone had taken this picture and gifted Haru with a sight that he kept tucked-away for ages, always there for him to go back to, to dream about, to hope for…

 

Sometimes, the idea of Bel Air was what kept Takeharu going.

 

“Darling I’m waiting to greet you…” Haru sang quietly. “Come to me baby…”

 

A few short, short minutes later, the piano faded out into the dark.

 

 _I will meet you someday, Bel Air_. He promised. _Someday…I will run and greet you_.

 

A few seconds later, the new silence of the night was broken by Shibayama sneaking into the bedroom. Haru flipped the thin covers back and let the omega slip inside, finding his place right up against Futamata’s warm back, where he would be able to share his warmth, and let his difficult-to-detect smell lull him into a deep, calming sleep. Yuki lightly grabbed onto Haru’s grey, tattered sleeping t-shirt, and took a deep inhale.

On the exhale, his heart was at peace.

 

“Goodnight, Haru-chan.” Shibayama whispered sweetly.

 

Takeharu reached back and stroked a lock of his silky hair.

 

“Goodnight, Shibayama.”

 

An hour later, Haru made one last promise, just as Bel Air’s piano was fading out for the hundredth time.

 

_I will meet you with my friends, Bel Air…I promise._

 

~~~~~~~~~~~

 

That same Friday, at 7:38, Terushima Yuuji was leaving his group of friends earlier than usual.

 

Is it really that hard to believe?

 

Well, believable or not, it was real; only Kazuma Bobata, Terushima’s right-hand man and best friend had a guess at what Yuuji did during the late hours of each and every Friday night, one the Johzenji Special Unit members usually spent running their energy levels down by experimenting with new alcohol mixtures (created from their own vibrant imaginations), singing the catchiest songs at karaoke bars, and schooling the young punks of the neighborhood at _Dance Dance Revolution_. Terushima and Bobata were tied for the highest score, from the time they spent thirteen-hours of their afternoon off at the arcade. That’s beside the point, but these records proved, even further, that Johzenji knew how to have fun, even when there was no alcohol involved.

After downing his third shot of some pink mixture, Terushima glanced at his watch, and decided it was time to go. He had loosened his mind enough where the work he would be doing would feel a little more bearable.

 

“Hey Bobata,” Yuuji said with that knowing grin. He placed a good $70 on the bar table. “This is for you. Don’t drink anything Katsumichi gives you.”

“It’s a little early for tips this big, Terushima.” Bobata replied loosely, looking over his glass.

“You know me, work hard-play hard!”

 

Bobata gave a half smile, not pressing his leader for more information. The only time Yuuji was ever quiet was when asked about what he did Friday nights after eight o’clock; no one in Tokyo saw him at bars, at different karaoke businesses, at clubs, or even at the Delicate Rose strip club—he would seemingly vanish into thin air, combine with the city’s dark shadows to slink around Tokyo for some unknown reason. All Bobata knew was that it was family matters, as he once saw important documents sprawled across Terushima’s desk at headquarters when he found him early Saturday morning one day; he’s been smart enough not to pry, although his intelligence level isn’t what you would call genius, unlike Terushima, whose strange accuracy in mathematics, sciences, and even grammar and writing made him a force to be reckoned with—

Bobata liked to think that if he wasn’t so good at kissing ass, breaking fingers and sucking information out of people by smooth talking, he would make a decent business man.

 

“You’re leaving _again_?” Rintaro asked, halting his alcohol concoction to look at his boss with wide eyes. “Yuuji-san’s so cool he can go to bed at eight at night and wake-up at three in the morning, all to scope out our next victim.”

“I’m not going to bed!” Terushima boasted with light in his almond colored eyes. “I’m just gunna go roam the city, travel downtown, see the scenery of Tokyo!”

Rintaro, now lying on his back on the floor, in agony over his most recent drink, laughed delusionally.

“Scenery…yeah. Tokyo………… _yeahhhh_.”

“Pffff! Wasted at seven?” Terushima cackled, pushing on Rintaro’s stomach with his foot. “Such a little drinking virgin, aren’t we, Rinny?”

 

Rintaro groaned as a response, and Yuuji grabbed the jacket of his suit, slinging it over his shoulder before roughly fixing a piece of his hair in the door’s reflection. Bobata watched with some interest, his curiosity growing more with each passing Friday. But if there was something Terushima wasn’t comfortable talking about, it had to be pretty messed-up—and if the mention and prying of the subject got Yuuji upset…

Well; Bobata decided that respect was the quickest way to Terushima’s only secret.

 

“See you bitches later,” The leader of Johzenji said cheerfully. “Call me when you’re sober, Bobata!”

 

Bobata laughed with jolly, throwing back a purple drink with a yellow umbrella lost inside the liquid. He almost choked on it, and the boys got one more laugh in before Terushima exited the empty bar.

 

What was there to say about Johzenji?

 

To get straight to the point, they were part of the yakuza, aka, the mafia, the gang of all gangs, the hidden reason behind every job secured, every ounce of “luck” in Tokyo, every single movement and success…was because of the yakuza. As terrifying as that reality was for some people, as long as they played fairly and contributed manners, respect, and honesty to Fukurodani and Karasuno, the top yakuzas in Tokyo, no one would be out on the streets or, worse, in the gutters, face smashed into the point of being unrecognizable. That’s just how the underground world worked; you know the smooth talkers, you have a life.

Fukurodani was recently undergoing new management, their founder and oldest goodfella, if you will, Takeyuki Yamiji, was in the process of retiring. He had been sliding his duties between the calm and collected lawyer Akaashi Keiji, omega, and the loud, persevering alpha Bokuto Kōtarō; they made a good match, both fundamentally and romantically, and Yamiji was certain that hardly anything would change with the switch of leadership. Their members all had an owl with golden eyes tattooed on their inner forearm, although Bokuto had one stretching across his entire back; Haruki Komi, Wataru Onaga, Tatsuki Washio and Yamato Sarukui were their forces, and, when needed…assassins.

 

Karasuno did have some internal issues once in a while, what with the abundance of opposing personalities and childish games of the younger members, but still managed to function as the other powerhouse of Tokyo. Owned and ran by the Ukai bloodline, they too were going through some filtering leadership, the only grandson of the Godfather Ukai taking over full-time. They over-saw many of the blue-collar jobs, and if you lived in the neighborhood, you would even get to see Keishin Ukai stocking the shelves of his grocery store, although he may be a bit grumpy if you were to approach him in the early hours of the morning...

 

Branching between the two powerhouse yakuzas was Nekoma, owned between alphas Kuroo Tetsurou and Yaku Morisuke, who disguised themselves as travel agents, airport founders, and vineyard farmers. Wine was the perfect way to their old leader’s heart, especially the kind that wasn’t very strong, which meant more time to _get_ drunk rather than _being_ drunk. Things had been running smoothly there, and strangely enough, even with their love-sick, overdramatic hitman Taketora Yamamoto, they were never involved in brawls or gang fights, unless their silent contracts with Karasuno and Fukurodani bound them to the situation. With Yasufumi Nekomata’s old style wisdom, their businesses ran freely, flourished greatly, and usually maintained jobs for a good fifteen-blocks around. Whenever someone needed a job, they would contact Yaku Morisuke, who then sent the information for omega Kenma Kozume to sort out and arrange.

 

In between these three groups was a branched-off unit of Fukurodani, the Johzenji Unit.

 

Johzenji had no history. They were brand-new, breeds of a different kind, unlike anyone before them. They had no skills that included business, social connection, political allies or media outlets; they were not millionaires to begin with, nor were they well-known hitmen or lawyers.

The endearing quality that brought them to be employed by Fukurodani was their energy.

Terushima Yuuji, the un-official ringleader of the group, had grown-up on the streets, where he learned a skill that would come to be his most useful quality: listening. Terushima began listening to people, and from these encounters, he found out hundreds of secrets, rumors, schemes, plans, anything and everything that mobsters spoke of; the reason behind his sudden interest in hearing what people have to say remained a mystery to all, but a good excuse (with some truth in it) for his behavior was that Terushima loved to gossip. He loved having something to hold against people, especially the really powerful men. This did get him into trouble quite a few times throughout his youth, but when he was backed into a corner by a mobster who was angry at him for trying to squeeze some money out of his secret box, Yuuji picked-up another useful skill:

 

Smooth talking.

 

Terushima could talk his way out of any life-or-death situation. That was how he came to be friends with the future of Johzenji—he caught Kazuma Bobata stealing from a store and smooth-talked the cashier into letting him go, he met Katsumichi Higashiyama when he was being beaten by a local mobster and managed to smooth-talk the bastard out of killing the kid, he saved Rintaro Numajiri from his father’s wrath by striking up a conversation about Japan’s national baseball team, and he saved his own ass hundreds of times after getting too far into deadly situations, all because he wanted to know more about the kidnappings of omegas five-years earlier.

Shockingly enough, Terushima Yuuji _loved_ school, and naturally, he convinced his new friends that school was cool; by the time they were twenty-years-old, their bond was solid, and after graduation, Terushima suggested that they take to the streets again, offering their services to any mobster who was in-need.

 

What was the Johzenji unit good for? _Gossiping_.

 

With Terushima’s undying curiosity, persuasiveness, acting skills and deceptive charm, he could get any information from whoever he needed to hear from. Yuuji and Bobata were a tag-team in squeezing out names, locations, methods, pretty much anything, all without using an ounce of force. Johzenji were talkers—they had no loyalty to anyone but themselves and the person they were working for at that very minute. As soon as the job was over, if enough income was offered, they would two-time the person they were just working for by letting it slip that so-and-so was watching them, trying to plan something to sabotage another group. That was how they got by; “Simplicity & Fortitude” was a bit of an understatement, but their methods really were the simplest out of all the yakuzas in town. They lacked formation, usually running around town until one member found who they were searching for, but they were talented at causing much-needed distractions, making scenes, and sneaking around in the shadows of Tokyo; Terushima and his group were unorthodox, unpredictable, rambunctious, rhythmic, and energetic.

 

They were very good at their jobs—eventually, Fukurodani noticed.

 

Long story short, Johzenji was now employed by one group, which they didn’t mind—Fukurodani had a lot of “under the table” secrets, all of which, Terushima made it his job to find out about. For as much as he liked to run his mouth, those secrets were never told, never escaped his lips; that was the fun of secrets, he always said…being one of the only people to know about them was one of the most satisfying things in the entire world.

 

Now if only he could figure out the one secret he actually cared about.

 

Terushima walked down the sidewalk in his grey tux, taking note of the lowering sun behind the skyscrapers; it was still very early, but he had lots to do—a man in downtown Tokyo supposedly had information about the omega kidnappings several years back. Unless the person was obviously just trying to lure Terushima in for some quick cash, he met with whoever, at any location, at any time they wanted each Friday night, in the hopes that their lead would give him a push forward, inching him that much closer to the truth.

Why did Terushima care so much about the omega kidnappings? That was the number one question, wasn’t it…why would someone so sneaky, so manipulative, so energetic and happy-go-lucky give a shit about twenty young omegas who were taken from their homes and never heard from again? How did that affect him in any way? Lots of people go missing in Tokyo; although most of the unsolved murders were yakuza-related and as a result, would most likely never be solved, there were a handful of non-related massacres and murders that were still out in the open—Terushima didn’t care about those one bit. So why was his interest so fixated on that rare, one-time incident that took place over ten years ago?

 

Well—Terushima Yuuji cared, because his little sister, Terushima Yachi, was one of the omegas who had been kidnapped.

 

Yuuji threw his suit jacket into the passenger suit of his yellow Ferrari and rolled-up his white sleeves; he was always ready for a fight, despite his dislike of them—and the guy he was going to meet sounded like he needed a good ass-beating. He would give the man a chance to tell him what he knew, but if he failed to give him any useful information…well—that was why he rolled his sleeves up. Yuuji decided to keep his piercings in, however, because they always seemed to scare people, even the over-grown alphas on steroids.

Safe to say, Terushima liked scaring people. He also liked helping them, however, which is why he helped every member of Johzenji face their biggest fears; he enjoyed the work, and it helped their reputation out as well. Everything Terushima did usually ended-up as a win-win, both for his amusement, and his situation.

 

Yuuji started his car and tore down the street. Although his radio was usually blasting, along with his loud, obnoxiously horrible singing voice, he was quiet today; Fridays were always like this. Friday’s were the only time Terushima was completely out of character. He was serious, unmoving, and firm—Bobata feared this side of him, and refused to tell anyone about it…not that anyone asked. To an outsider, Terushima’s charm was terrifying; when he was off-duty, it would be more noticeable to tell that the guy was pretty harmless, just really confident and _really_ talkative, but his usual “bad boy” appearance usually warded people away. To think, if they ever witnessed _this_ side of him…

 _Today for sure_ , Terushima told himself, like he did every Friday night. _Today I’m going to find out what happened to Yachi. Today I’m going to find out who took her from me, why they took her, what they did to her…and I’m going to finish them, once and for all. If I find out they killed her, or worse, I’m going to make sure they wished they were never born. They’re going to wish they could go back to that moment and draw their hand back—but I’ve already caught them red-handed._

_They’re finished._

 

He released an annoyed breath through his nose and adjusted his mirror, even though it didn’t need adjusting. Terushima caught sight of his reflection, noting that his cool, carefree eyes were darker than usual; despite this shielded anger, there was undeniably the same coloration of Yachi’s wide eyes amongst his shade. This image both pained him and made him smile. Yachi always had the prettiest eyes, full of wonder, anxiety, and innocence…to have that ripped away from her was unspeakable. Terushima tried not to think about it too much—it clouded his hope that someday, he would find her alive and well.

The fact that she had been kidnapped with several other omegas was enough to dull Yuuji’s hope. People don’t just kidnap omegas for the fun of it; there’s always a twisted reason behind walls, mostly related to sexual and entertainment purposes. He’d heard that one of the most famous omegas, Shimizu Kiyoko, had been kidnapped at a young age—the idea of Yachi, his little Yachi, being forced to act as a lingerie model—

 

 _Don’t think about it_ , Terushima forcibly told himself. _You’re going to find her alive and well…she’ll be fine. She’s fine._

 

Around 8:30, Yuuji pulled into a mechanic shop in a shadowed section of Tokyo; it was pretty damn creepy looking, what with the drooping sign and washed-down, graffitied brick…Terushima parked a block away, just to keep his precious car a little safer. Thankfully, his own knowledge of stealing cars prevented anyone from jump-starting his own, as he extended and hid the wires in different locations, should anyone successfully break into the corvette. Once he was ready to wring information out of this bitch, Terushima stepped out of the car and strolled down the sidewalk, stepping into the shadowed alleyway of the mechanic shop, where a guy named Hiroshi supposedly worked. If he had been lying about that…well—Yuuji hoped, for his sake, he hadn’t been lying.

Terushima was not lenient when it came to finding Yachi.

“I need to speak with Hiroshi.” He demanded from the front office bum, whose eyes widened at the sight of him. “Is he in the back?”

“Yes…”

“Thanks.”

 

Terushima knew the man had been silently asking for his name, but he never gave that information out. Never.

 

Yuuji quickly maneuvered his way through the mechanic shop, slinking around to where he heard someone rattling around with a car. The guy jumped as soon as he glanced over his shoulder, shooting Terushima a toothless grin, which made the Johzenji leader wish he had never wasted time on this druggie.

“You’re Hiroshi?” Yuuji said quickly. “What information do you have for me?”

“Getting right to the point, huh?” Hiroshi drawled, leaning against his car. It was a shitty car, probably not worth looking at, much less, fixing. “Do you want something to drink first?”

“Tell me what you know about the omega kidnappings.”

 

Hiroshi didn’t seem offended; he was probably too stupid to see how serious Terushima was about the situation, choosing to take his time sitting down on a stool and grabbing a beer, rather than getting straight to the point as Yuuji demanded. The greasy man finally began to talk after downing half of the bottle.

“I heard a guy from inner-city Tokyo was behind it,” Hiroshi said, sounding pleased with himself. “He’s probably pretty old now, likes his omegas young…I heard he owned a black Jaguar MK at one point. Someone once found a dumped car like that with tons of omega scent shit in it or something, a good seven years back. He’s probably filthy rich, like you, considering how easily he was able to hide his tracks. Oh, and I heard they found a pair of crushed glasses at one of the scenes; bifocals, to be exact. He’s probably an old fuck by now,” The mechanic laughed happily. There was a short moment of silence Hiroshi used to let the news sink-in. “So…how much is that information worth, stranger?”

 

What Hiroshi said had been good information; one of the omegas must have put up a good fight, considering the struggle found at one of the scenes. The bifocals were outdated, probably because the person was either poor or old fashioned, maybe even because he was cheap, possibly poor. Terushima really didn’t need Hiroshi’s input and personal theories, but the information sounded right on the money, considering the evidence the police of Tokyo already had stored. The kidnapper probably was old, old enough to get a kick out of helpless omegas, and did supposedly own a black Jaguar MK, along with over one million other mobsters in Tokyo; Hiroshi knew a lot for having not been there at the scene.

 

But Terushima had already known that information for two-years.

 

“Nothing.” Yuuji answered blankly.

 

“N— _Nothing_?” Hiroshi repeated in disbelief. “Come on, that’s!—”

 

Hiroshi’s rebuttal was cut-off by the snapping noise of his left pinky finger, bent backwards by Terushima. He fell to the ground in agony, yelling and cradling his hand as Yuuji stormed out of the mechanic shop. When he got outside, he noticed two Ford Model 18 v8’s parked in the lot, both set-up for oil changes. Turning around, Terushima pounded back to Hiroshi and grabbed him by the hair, causing him more pain as he jerked his head around angrily.

“Whose cars are those?”

The mechanic yelled, and Terushima gripped harder, nearly tearing the decaying hair right out of his skin.

“T-Tanji Washijo’s!” Hiroshi yelled in pain. “From Shiratorizawa!”

 

Terushima released his hair and grabbed a crowbar.

 

Smashing the windows out of Washijo’s stupid old cars didn’t make Yuuji feel any better. He had just wasted an entire hour he could have spent looking over the kidnapping files again to listen to an asshole tell him what he already knew about the kidnapper. It was an hour Terushima could never get back. It had all been in vain, in desperate hope that someone would finally give him a break in the case, after all this time…

Unable to fathom this rage, Terushima busted the windows a little harder, ensuring that the pathetic joke of a mobster Washijo would be able to understand just how low he has fallen; someone busted his vintage cars, and he doesn’t even have enough power or help to find out who did it, much less, punish them. When that thought still didn’t make him feel any better, Terushima threw the crowbar aside and jerked open the door to his own car, stepping on the gas as hard as he could, leaving Hiroshi in his world of pain, both physically, and mentally.

 

 _Fuck them all_ , Yuuji cursed to himself, speeding down the bustling streets. _Fuck them all! Fuck whoever took Yachi, fuck whoever helped him, and fuck any idiot who tries to screw me over for a couple bucks!_

 

Terushima pressed on the gas harder once he made it to the interstate, and sped past the other cars, not caring about the honks he was receiving. He hadn’t been this furious in a long time. Usually he would pay the informer a couple bucks for helping him out, but people like Hiroshi were just wrong—they shouldn’t exist. It was people like him who probably stole Yachi and the other omegas. _He_ was the cause of Terushima’s rage and pain; it had been too long since any lead was found, and even though Johzenji was considered the best of the best for gathering information, it seemed like this was one secret the world wasn’t allowing Yuuji to enter.

 

And it just so happened to be the one he wanted most.

 

After injuring his hand from slamming on the wheel so much, Terushima tried to think of something to calm him down. The one picture he had of Yachi had been destroyed long ago; thinking of that incident only made Yuuji angrier, so he forced himself to remember—ripping the mirror down, he stared at his own reflection, as it was the only way he could remember what Yachi’s eyes looked like.

 

_“Y-Yuuji-chan?”_

_Terushima glanced over from his recent car toy model that he was assembling; little eight-year-old Yachi was standing in the doorway, hovering nervously. Her brown eyes were glowing with wonder, however, which dissipated some of her anxiety._

_“What’s up, Yachi girl?”_

_“Can I help?” She asked softly._

_“Sure thing, onjichan!”_

 

_Terushima pulled Yachi up onto his lap, reaching around her to glue a car door on the model. His sister watched in fascination, holding a tiny piece in her chubby little hand, waiting for the time when she could lend a hand._

_“What’d you learn in school today?” Yuuji asked, holding a tire in place as he waited for the glue to dry._

_“Advanced mathematic stuff.” Yachi answered. “I wasn’t as good as it as you are, niichan.”_

_“Well, I am older than you, silly Yachi-chan.” Yuuji teased while giving her side a teasing poke. She giggled and squirmed in his arms, but stayed put for a while, content with the silence of the small room. Amazingly, Terushima kept his bedroom fairly neat, save for the clothing thrown over and under the bed. It was the only clothing he owned, so he liked to keep it in sight at all times._

_“Can…can I…can I put this one on?” Yachi asked hesitantly, holding her piece up._

_“We’ll do it together; how does that sound?”_

_His sister nodded eagerly, and Yuuji smiled at her silent excitement._

_Terushima dabbed some glue onto the plastic, and guided Yachi’s hand carefully, lightly placing the steering wheel in its rightful position. It was then that Yachi noticed the large bruise on her older brother’s hand, the one holding hers in place against the toy car; the coloration was dark, purple and blue, which would have been pretty, had the injury not looked so painful._

_“Yuuji, you’re hurt!” Yachi cried stressfully, her anxiety level spiking dramatically._

_“What, that?” Terushima replied. “That’s nothing but a bruise, Yachi-chan.”_

_“But it looks so painful!” She chided. “You have to put ice on it! We need a first aid kit! I’ll go ask mom if we have one, just wait here, Yuuji!”_

_Yachi’s brother held her in place before she could run off and have a stroke over his “injury,” reminding her of the toy car in front of them._

_“Just hold on a second there!” Terushima said. “You can’t leave until the steering wheel glue has dried, remember? We can do it after we’re done, okay Yachi? Seriously, it doesn’t even hurt that much…you could smack it and it probably wouldn’t hurt a bit.”_

_Yachi sputtered over her words, horrified at the idea of hitting someone, especially her older brother._

_“I-I’m not going to hit it!” She promised loudly, making Yuuji laugh behind his other hand. “I’ll be careful! We’ll put the steering wheel in place, then we’ll put ice on your hand, okay?!”_

_“Pinky promise.”_

_Yuuji wrapped his large pinky around Yachi’s small one, and together, they finished the car model, piece by piece; Terushima never told her where his bruise came from, and Yachi never asked._

_She just wanted to help her brother._

 

Terushima hadn’t realized that he was now only going fifty down the interstate, and the other cars were honking at him for a different reason now. He was much more relaxed now…the thought of Yachi usually made him peaceful, or raging with anger—there was no in between. A tired sigh escaped his lips, and he slowly turned on the radio; a song he didn’t know was on, but he liked the dreary sound of the woman’s voice, so he kept it on as he drove back home. The lyrics said something about roses, and he couldn’t help but continue thinking about his Yachi.

 _She always liked roses_ , he thought sadly, with a small smile on his face. _Red ones, pink ones…she even liked yellow ones at one point. I really need a picture of her…_

Putting his pride aside, Terushima searched through his contacts and pulled over, dialing a number that hadn’t been used on his cell phone in over five-years.

 

It rang three times, and a gruff man answered.

 

“Hello?”

“Dad…it’s Yuuji.” He said slowly. When was the last time he heard his father’s voice? “What’s up? How’s Mom doing?”

There was silence on the other end.

“Listen, I was wondering if I could ask a favor. You know that scrapbook Mom made during Yachi’s first year of—”

 

The line went dead.

 

 _Can’t say I’m surprised_ , Yuuji thought with a sigh, throwing his phone into the passenger seat. _So much for keeping memories alive…_

For a solid fifteen-minutes, Terushima sat there, wondering what his little sister was doing at this very moment. Was she eating enough? Was she being abused? Was she ill? Was she doing okay? Was she married? Did she already have children or something? The possibilities were endless…the only option Terushima ruled-out was death. No way someone would kidnap an omega just to let them die of starvation or torture; their existence was too useful. Omegas were how the world turned—without them, there would be no alphas, no future, no pleasure, probably.

 

Yachi was alive; this much he was certain of. All he had to do was find her.

 

And Terushima was _going_ to find her, even if it killed him.


	2. Cats & Owls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Haru has a secret...  
> Terushima has a ceramic elephant trunk...

 

On Monday morning, after a nice, remotely peaceful weekend, Takeharu’s good mood was shattered by a call from Tanji Washijo’s main office. Just as he was about to leave umbrella rehearsal, Tanji’s assistant came in with her cell phone and handed it to him, saying that Tanji needed to talk to him. Takeharu had a lot of nerve when he needed to, such as when alphas didn’t take no for an answer, whether they wanted him, Konoha, Arata, or, God forbid, Shibayama, but this situation was different. Talking to the man was terrifying enough…but _seeing_ him, having a one-sided conversation with that rich bastard?

That was just pure torture on Haru’s poor nerves.

“Hello?” He said, swallowing his fear down.

“Takeharu,” The grouchy old man replied slowly. If that wasn’t a death sentence, Haru didn’t know what was. “I need to speak with you. Come to my office when you’re finished with rehearsal.”

 

Despite Haru’s heart now being lodged in his throat, he mumbled a reassurance and hung-up.

 

“What did he want?” Arata asked, sneaking up behind his stiffened friend.

“He told me to come to his office after rehearsal.” Takeharu said quietly. He meant to smile, but it looked more like he was about to cry.

Tsucchi was quiet for a second, unsure of what to say; the rest of the Roses had already left, except for Shibayama, who had to stay with the stripping choreographer because he couldn’t get his moves right. Stripping just wasn’t in Yuki’s nature, and he hated doing it, but…you can’t say no to Washijo. The last omega who did hadn’t been seen in four years. Everyone knew what happened to her because they saw it written in the paper, first as a missing person, then as a homicide victim a month later.

 

_ Mika Yamaka, 21, who had been missing for thirty-one days, was identified as the homicide victim found in a ditch outside of Tokyo. DNA matches were made through her dental records. All other forms of identification were unavailable, as the female victim’s fingers and toes had been cut-off, and her face beaten to an extent where physical descriptions could not be linked to anyone. Mika was twenty-one-years old at the time of her death. The case remains unsolved; if you have any information on the victim and the circumstances of her death, please contact the Tokyo Police Department. _

 

Haru lowered his head at the mental image, wondering how heartbroken Yuki and the other boys would be if Haru were to skip the meeting with Washijo and go A-Wall—Arata probably wouldn’t be able to bear it. They’ve always considered themselves strong people, but seeing your friend fight for what he rightfully deserves and be viciously slaughtered because of it was just too much. Too much pain…too much sorrow…too much stinging bitterness. As long as they knew, deep down in their hearts, that someday, they would receive better treatment, they would be okay in the present.

That wisdom was starting to wear-off from Haru’s mentality.

“It shouldn’t take too long,” Takeharu said, mostly to himself. Yuki had drifted closer to their conversation, trying to sneak away from the choreographer. “I’ll probably be home in time for dinner. What are we having?”

“Ramen.” Arata shrugged.

“Great!”

“Chicken flavored.”

“Even better!”

“For the third month in a row, not counting the three days for take-out.”

“Could be worse!”

 

Arata blinked a few times, and let a loose smile find its way to his lips. Tsucchi’s smile was always a sight to see.

 

“You’re pretty good at being optimistic, aren’t you, Haru?”

 

“Sure am, Tsucchi!”

 

Haru grabbed his thin jacket and slipped into it, hating the fact that he would have to walk back home in his practice outfit, which included leggings so thin it was a wonder you couldn’t see every cell of Takeharu’s skin. Tanji didn’t allow them to walk back in normal clothing anyway, because he said they needed to “showcase” their “merchandise” and lure more people into the club. His methods of gaining popularity were on the lines of desperate; he even had Konoha advertise to his clients after they were finished with their session.

“Bye,” Arata said, brushing his fingers over his friend’s scent glands as an act of comfort. Haru smiled and waved to Shibayama.

“See you later, Yuki!”

Yuki gave him a miserable look in return, and as affected as Haru was by that damned puppy dog expression of his, he knew he would have to clear his mind of any distractions before meeting with Tanji. Things always went worse when he saw that you were distracted; goodfellas hate when the attention is off them, if only for a second. If Haru was already in trouble for some unknown reason, and he caused his owner even more annoyance by not giving him his full attention…

These things are best left unheard. He didn’t want to end-up like Mika, or Ya—

 

 _Jeez_ , Haru thought, shaking his head madly as he stepped outside. _I’m full of distractions today, aren’t I?_

 

Brushing off the wolf-whistles he was getting, Takeharu hurriedly walked the three blocks to Washijo’s main office, hoping that by the time he got there, the wind wouldn’t be so cold, and his luck will have changed for the better.

 

~~~~-~~~~

 

While procrastinating the walk up the three flights of stairs, Haru began to wonder when the last time he had been in Tanji’s office was; his memories of this place were fresh, but stowed away for so long that he wasn’t sure of the exact year or time. _It must have been a few years ago_ , he thought, shakily placing his foot onto the first step. _When Konoha had the flu and Washijo wanted to know where he was, because he thought he was running away or something. But before that…I hadn’t been here since the first year of evaluation, three-months after Yachi…_

 _There’s really no memory I can remember without doing so reluctantly_.

 

A chill went down Haru’s spine, and he made extra care to block his scent from oozing out; it was a talent he had acquired long ago, to try and prevent stalkers from chasing after him. Of course, if you were to get close enough, you would be overwhelmed by the power of his scent, but so little people had that the omega’s lusty, delicious scent wasn’t well-known around Tokyo. Usually scents were at their height of power during intimacy, but seeing as the closest Haru had ever come to intimacy was cuddling with the other members of the Delicate Roses, it made sense that hardly anyone knew of Haru’s intoxicating smell.

The boys always liked to joke that they could get more pleasure from spooning each other than they ever could from a bulky, hormonal alpha’s stupid knot. The thought comforted Haru, if only a little, as he stood before the door that stood between him and his owner.

 

 _It’ll be okay_ , Haru lied. _It will all be perfectly fine…_

 

The door opened before he could knock, and the first sight he was met with was Tanji Washijo.

 

The seventy-something old man was sitting behind his desk in a chair that was much too large for him, though pointing that out would probably mean death. His white, thin hair was slicked back severely, adding to his terrifying presence; despite his age, his thick eyebrows had remained dark brown, hovering and creating large shadows over both of his eyes. His nose was round and high on his face, his lips stern, unmoving; the color of his eyes were around blue, but Haru knew what color blue was supposed to be, and that wasn’t it.

Today, Tanji was wearing a white suit with a pinkish tie, which was just as intimidating as his black suit and maroon tie he usually wore. Haru still wasn’t sure why his owner chose this pattern, but then again, the hints to this behavior were thrown out the window as soon as he felt his presence.

 

For a long moment, Washijo looked over Takeharu. He did this every time one of his Roses visited, checking his work to make sure it was not ruined by a hidden obsession with drugs or a secret lover. Haru thought he was going to throw-up.

 

“Have a seat.” Tanji said sharply. That’s just how his natural voice is.

 

Haru obeyed, taking note of his bodyguards standing in the corners of the room; to be honest, the only one who scared him was Tendo, because no one ever knew what he was capable of. All Tanji hired them for was for protection, but one couldn’t help but be the slightest bit weary of Tendo’s eccentric personality. Had he not been Washijo’s bodyguard, Haru might be friends with him—they both had a lot of energy.

Tanji stared at Takeharu for a moment longer, then spoke again.

“It has come to my attention that today’s social standards find blonde hair more attractive than dark hair.”

 

_Well that was unexpected._

 

“Um…really?” Haru asked.

“Yes.” Washijo nodded once, his eyes never leaving Haru. “I should have noticed this a long time ago…after all…Konoha attracts much more attention than you others do.”

 _We others_ , Takeharu scoffed silently. _What are we, weeds?_

“So they prefer platinum blonde, or ash blonde, like Konoha’s?”

“My sources tell me this,” Washijo continued, folding his arms. “Our Japanese Fashion Show and Umbrella Arts participants all have dark hair.”

 _Arata doesn’t_ , Haru replied. _And Shibayama’s dark hair is way prettier than any of ours…Ennoshita’s too. Tadashi’s is a lighter brown, but it still suits him well…_

 

“What I’m getting at here, is that I am considering having you dye your hair, Takeharu.”

 

_Dye…dye my hair? Dye my hair to something like Konoha’s color? Arata’s color? Lighter than that, even? I can’t…I won’t. I’d look horrible with that color, and during one of the stages of lightening my hair, I’d look way too much like Yachi—_

_Yachi. Yachi had beautiful hair…_ Haru thought, her image flashing in his brain. _It was long and flowing when she was first kidnapped with us…but then Washijo asked one of the ladies to cut it short. Even then, that light shade of gold was beautiful—no one could ever pull that off like Yachi did…no one could ever pull off those little clips holding her bangs back like she did…_

 

“Haru.” Tanji said firmly, seeing that his rose was distracted.

“Yes,” Haru flinched. “Yes, Washijo-san?”

“We will talk about this later. I have some other business to attend to concerning my cars…I will do more research on the topic…but be prepared. Understood?”

“Yes, Tanji-sama.”

“Dismissed.”

 

Takeharu’s chair was lifted out from underneath him by Ushijima Wakatoshi, though it was meant to be able to help him get out easier. Haru stumbled a bit, trying to pull down his booty shorts to protect what little modesty he had left. He bowed quickly, thanked Tanji for his time, then made a quick escape and hurried down the staircase in his heeled leather boots.

 _I don’t want to dye my hair_ , Haru thought in a panic. _I don’t want to. I’d look horrible with blonde hair. I can’t do it._

Of all the things he could be panicked about, he chose this. There was just something stripping about Tanji demanding him to dye his hair; it was taking away even more of his natural appearance. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think Washijo was making this whole social-preference thing up, just so he could take away a part of Haru’s old life, his personality, his very existence—he didn’t want Haru to be Haru. He wanted him to be his delicate rose.

 

How could Haru just step back and let this bastard take over like that?

 

Takeharu had been tripping over his heels frequently, and once he reached the bottom of the staircase, meeting the carpeted flooring sent him crashing to the ground; his chin knocked against the floor with a bang, and his knees skidded across the rough fabric, burning with immediate rashes. His ankles both turned at horrible angles, but none of that hurt him the most.

What hurt Haru the most was that he didn’t want to get up.

 

He didn’t want to get up; he knew that when he did, he would have to do what he always did. Pretend like he isn’t hurt, go around the world like he’s having fun, and get crazy every Friday night, just to please the damned demon man who had stolen his life from him, created a pawn in one of his sick games without giving Haru even a fraction of what he had earned, sacrificed, deserved…why would he want to get up for that?

For a few minutes, Haru just laid there, contemplating his location in Tanji’s office building. An alleyway away, a body was buried underneath the dirt, the name of the deceased badly carved into the stone above her head that made-up the building where Tanji had kept his Delicate Roses captured for a year, observing and watching their every move as he decided where their talents were best suited. Certainly, Haru hated this place, and any place near it.

 

This thought made Takeharu stand.

 

After checking the damage to his body, confirming that nothing was broken, Haru drug himself forward, hugging his coat tighter around him. _Yuki’s scent would be nice right now_ , he thought sadly, emerging back into the cold. _Arata will cuddle with me if I ask…but I can’t let it be known that I’m this injured. It would upset them, and we don’t need any more stress. I’ll just eat my ramen, play footsie under the table with Tsucchi, make Shibayama that tea he loves, maybe talk to Konoha, if he doesn’t have any clients tonight, play with Tadashi’s hilarious piece of hair on the top of his head, talk movies with Chikara…_

 

 _I’ll pretend I’m not hurt, and go around the world like I’m having fun_ , Haru thought. _Just like Tanji wants me to._

 

~~~~-~~~~

 

On the same Monday night, Yaku Morisuke was relaxing in his one-bedroom, two-story apartment after a long day of work; being the head of the Nekoma yakuza was difficult, but running it with Kuroo Tetsurou was all-but impossible. Well…not _impossible_ …just annoying. Their personalities clashed so much that it took over three-hours for them to understand what each other was saying or hinting at; that made for some extremely long days, this being one of them. Yaku had learned to deal with these dreary Mondays by setting aside a solid two-hours for doing nothing but watching TV, stretching, and making a good home-cooked dinner. Of course, his cat Lev usually sent those plans array, but it’s the thought that counts.

As Yaku was finishing his stir-fried vegetables, Lev hopped-up onto the counter, shedding a few tufts of grey fur in the meantime. Despite his slick stature, the damn cat shed constantly, and while being completely aware of his actions, usually laid his territory on places where the fur was the hardest to clean off.

“How many times do I have to tell you, Lev.” Yaku sighed deeply, grabbing the cat and setting him down in front of his own food dish. “You can eat _with_ me, just not right on top of me. Don’t you ever obey?”

 

Lev blinked those emerald eyes at him and scurried away into the living room. Yaku let out another sigh, grabbed his plate of veggies, a can of hot cocoa, his guilty pleasure, and plopped down on the couch, sinking into the comfortable fabric like he was melting. For a few peaceful minutes, Nekoma’s co-leader and accountant enjoyed his dinner, enjoyed the quiet hum of the sitcom on television, and enjoyed not hearing Lev tripping over his big fat paws every five-seconds. He also enjoyed that no one was calling him with a problem with Fukurodani (Kuroo and Bokuto having a fight over which brand of sports car was better), with a computer issue at the travel agency, and he also enjoyed not having to sit around in a stuffy suit all day long. His pajamas were slack, freeing, and he cherished every moment he spent trapped in their comfort.

 

Of course, this strange lull in his usually-busy life caused him to become very suspicious.

 

“Lev,” Yaku called, lazily turning his head to look around the small living room. “Lev?”

Catching sight of the grey mess, Morisuke set his empty plate down on the coffee table and gave the cat most of his attention; Lev was perched a few feet away from the entryway, staring intently at the door. Yaku didn’t see a problem with this until he noticed what exact part of the door Lev was looking at.

 

He had forgotten to lock the cat door.

 

“Lev,” Yaku warned, turning his voice serious. “Lev, come here; come here, Lev. I’ll let you sit on my lap, just come here.”

The Russian cat turned his head quickly, barley making eye-contact with Yaku, then turned back to the cat door and stood-up.

“Lev.” Yaku said seriously, watching as he strode towards the opening. “Lev, d—”

 

Lev shot a quick glance at his owner, then jumped through the cat door.  

 

“ _Damnit_ Lev!”  

 

Yaku sprang from his spot on the couch, chasing after his pet without putting any shoes on. He tore the door open, just catching sight of Lev’s long grey tail disappearing around the corner of the sidewalk; Morisuke angrily ran after him, stepping in three puddles and forgetting to close his front door along the way.

“Lev, get back here this _instant_!”

Despite his yells, he was really just worried that Lev would get lost, or, worse case scenario, attacked by a stray dog and killed. He had a soft spot for animals, especially Lev, in _spite_ of Lev, who was too airheaded and well-meaning for his own good; to witness an animal murder would be twenty-times worse than all of the whacks he had seen go down over the years.  

“Lev!” Yaku called again, seeing his grey tail once again. “Lev, get over here!”  

 

The cat bounced around another corner, this one even darker than the last, and his owner’s feet were starting to ache from the harsh concrete under his socks. There didn’t seem to be anyone else outside, thankfully, but that all changed when Yaku rounded the final corner, coming face to face with total darkness, with a small patch of light provided by a dull streetlamp, the only one for a good mile—that thin light source allowed him to see the only other person on the streets, crouched down on the sidewalk, petting the rascal Lev, whose purring was heard from a good ten-feet away.

Yaku paused immediately, going into defensive mode; although he was small and not that physically strong, he had good reaction time, and was known to hit pressure points at a frighteningly accurate rate. The person, an omega, it smelled like, didn’t seem to be aware of Yaku’s presence…in fact, they seemed to be stuck in their own little world, stroking Lev’s fur lovingly, softly running their fingers over the cat’s ears and neck.  

 _They can’t be THAT dangerous_ , Yaku thought slowly, letting his muscles unclench a bit. _I’ll just get Lev and leave. They won’t want the dumb cat after spending a few minutes with him anyways; he’s too annoyingly innocent like that_.

 

Hesitantly, but hiding his fear, Yaku went forward to claim Lev.

 

“Hello,” The stranger said, making Morisuke pause. As it turns out, he was speaking to the cat, not him. “Are you wandering too?”

Maybe it was just the silence, but to Yaku, the voice sounded a little weak, shaky. Even though Lev was a pretty tall cat, he wasn’t _that_ intimidating…then again, the stranger had other reasons to be nervous; it was late, dark, much too quiet on the streets, and, not to mention, cold. _Much_ to cold be wearing something as revealing as this wanderer was.

“It’s cold…you shouldn’t be out here,” The person continued gently, giving Lev undeserving strokes on his velvety soft ears. “Your toes could freeze-up…you should be somewhere warm.”

 

Coming up on the omega, Morisuke could make out dark hair hanging around a pale face, although the lighting wasn’t very flattering or clear. Lev noticed his irritated owner first, and sent an innocent meow his way, which made Yaku narrow his eyes; the person finally noticed his presence, jerking his head upwards in alarm. Black, terrified eyes met curious, still slightly-glaring chocolate orbs—an overwhelming scent of fear oozed out, rushing over Yaku, who took a step back in response, not realizing that he had walked a little too close for comfort. When was the last time he got distracted like that?

 

“Sorry about this,” He coughed awkwardly, nodding to Lev without taking his eyes off the stranger’s. “He finds great amusement in running away and disobeying orders.”  

“T-That’s okay,” The boy said hurriedly, trying to smile, but failing as soon as the corner of his lips quirked upwards. “...What’s his name?”

“Lev.” Yaku answered, glaring at his cat.

“Russian,” The omega whispered to himself, though Yaku heard him in the quiet of the street. “Because he’s a Russian Blue…”

“Yeah,” Morisuke said in surprise, making the boy jump. “How’d you know?”

“Um—I—I work at an animal shelter. Well, I don’t _work_ there, I volunteer there, but…I’m around cats a lot, s-so that’s how I knew!”  

 

Yaku was about to hum in response, but the anxious omega stood-up before he could, stopping his breath entirely.  

 

Now that there were no shadows hovering over the boy’s face, Yaku was shocked to see a cute, lovable, timid expression on the stranger; his curtain of floppy black hair was parted neatly down the middle, accenting his light blush, both natural and caused by the chilling temperature. His mouth was small and turned downwards, his eyebrows slightly thick, sitting high on his forehead; Morisuke was struck-dumb by the omega.

To make things even better? He was _shorter_ than Yaku.

Despite this initial angelic status, there were a few details about him that caused great concern; even from down the sidewalk, Morisuke had noticed the boy’s completely bare legs—he seemed to be wearing some kind of tight leather skirt, although it was mostly covered by an oversized red jacket that was meant to keep him warm. Every inch of his legs (thankfully short in length) were covered in goosebumps, and were rosy from the chilly autumn wind; Yaku could practically _feel_ how cold his skin was, and wanted to remedy the poor boy of his future spout of pneumonia. Just because the boy was obviously young didn’t mean he was immune to illness—if he didn’t have a ride at this time of night, that most likely meant he was too poor to catch a cab, and too scared to ride the train. To top things all off, the omega was more barefoot than _he_ was, holding a pair of heeled boots in his hand that hadn’t been petting Lev. He was literally walking around Tokyo _barefooted_ , no shoes, no socks—not even a pair of stockings. Then again, being barefoot probably felt better than strutting the streets in heeled boots…this early description made Yaku suspicious that the boy was some kind of hooker, but timid and submissive were not on his check-list for standard prostitutes.

 

Besides…the mere idea of this omega doing something so raunchy made Morisuke’s blood boil. What an alpha instinct to feel.

 

As Yaku was finishing his once-over (twice-over, three-times over), the wind changed direction—a new scent overwhelmed Yaku’s nose, his senses, his very soul—it was like…the smell of a kitchen in a restaurant as the food was being prepped. Hundreds of different fruits, spices, meats, sauces combined into one steam, filling Yaku’s nose with the most pleasant scent he had ever detected. It made him warm, welcomed, and a little bit hungry; there was nothing it could have come from but this young man. Morisuke was unsettled to realize that he wasn’t sure if he was hungry for food, or this shy, pleasant, adorable omega.

The in-disguise travel agent would have been content to stare at the boy all day, but as his gaze drifted back towards those addicting dark eyes, he noticed that the omega’s eyelids were stained pink, and a tad bit wet; his black eyelashes were clumped together, hinting that he had recently been crying, which confirmed the reason behind his shaky voice. The mere idea of the tiny, animal-loving omega crying over something made Yaku’s heart ache something fierce; who could ever hurt someone who volunteered their time at an animal shelter? Yaku wanted to know, and he almost came right out with it, demanded to know who had hurt this innocent soul, but came to his senses when the wind changed direction again, pushing the food scent in a different direction. He let out a huff of air, hands twitching from being released from the gripping hold of the omega’s scent.

 

“Are you okay?” Morisuke asked, softening his voice. The omega met his eyes again, and again, his scent of fear became noticeable through the weather, as did his severe anxiety.

“Y-Yeah,” He nodded frantically. “Um—I’d better get going. It’s late…I should be home by now, anyway.”

“I know those are probably uncomfortable, but you should probably be wearing shoes out here.” Yaku advised, even though he was being hypocritical.

“Right!” The boy replied shakily, though he didn’t put his boots on at the suggestion.

“I can drive you home, if you’d like.” _Okay…that’s not suggestive at all…_ “As a thank-you, I mean—for finding Lev. Who knows what trouble he’d have gotten himself into if you hadn’t stopped him.”

The omega tried to smile again, but his failure to carry it out made Morisuke’s chest hurt.

“N-No thanks—uh…I—I like to walk.”

 

Yaku didn’t miss how uncomfortably the boy shifted on his tiny feet, fiddling with his coat so that it would reach further down his pale, slightly chubby thighs.

 

 _He’s afraid I’m going to take advantage of him_ , Yaku thought sadly, watching as the omega tried to stop his hands from trembling. _I don’t want to make it worse, but I can’t just leave him to walk home alone…what if someone does try to take advantage of him? Plus, it’s freezing out…what if he gets hypothermia? What if his toes freeze off? What if he gets pneumonia and I find his obituary in next week’s paper?! _

 

“Alright, well—thanks for stopping Lev,” Morisuke said quickly, hoping to end the young man’s silent anxiety by bending down to snatch the cat up. Lev wasn’t going without a fight, however, and wrapped his front legs around the poor omega’s bare legs, forcing Yaku to grab onto his paws and pry them off; in the act, he accidently brushed a finger over the cold skin, sending a shiver down his spine for more reasons than one. “Sorry!” He apologized immediately.

The boy tried to say something, but decided on just nodding and hurriedly escaping from the situation. He stepped past Yaku and began speed-walking down the sidewalk, completely barefoot, eager to get away from the alpha; although short, Shibayama found this man extremely intimidating, and after the crappy day he just had, he didn’t want it to get even worse by being taken advantage of by an alpha he could easily defend himself against, but would give-into anyways, because that was Tanji’s rule.

 

Nekoma’s accountant couldn’t stop himself from calling out; the kid was just too lovable. He didn’t want the omega’s night to end this awkwardly, and even though he _really_ wanted to give the boy his own socks and shove him into a burrito of blankets, he decided to just keep things simple—complex methods of friendliness could be saved for later—and Morisuke planned on there being a later, whether it was just a casual hello or a friendly goodbye.

 

“I’m Yaku Morisuke!” He said loudly, hoping it would reach the omega’s ears.

The boy stopped right before rounding the corner; Yaku sucked in a breath when he turned his head to look back at him and Lev.

“…Can you tell me yours?”

 

There was a moment of silence, and then, that soft voice answered, his word carried by a cold gust of air, pushing that delicious scent back into Yaku’s heart.

 

“Shibayama,” He said quietly.

 

“Shibayama,” Yaku repeated blankly; the gentle name suited him. “Well…please get home safely, Shibayama. See you around.”

 

Even from where he was standing, Morisuke saw those dark eyes widen; he whispered something that sounded like “Thank you,” then disappeared around the corner.

 

 _I’m...not sure what just happened_ , Yaku thought when he came back to reality, having stared at the empty spot for three-minutes. _Why am I still here?_

Lev ruined the moment by meowing loudly, pawing at Yaku’s shirt; only then did he realize why his appearance probably frightened Shibayama so much: his socked feet were drenched in muddy water, his shirt had holes from Lev’s nails in it, along with a few stains from being such an old shirt, and his hair was all fluffed-up from the position he took his earlier nap in. No wonder the kid was in a hurry.  

“You piss me off, you know that?” Yaku said, frowning down at Lev as he began to limp his way back to his apartment. “Someone probably stole all our furniture by now, all because you refuse to listen to me. Are you happy about that?”

 

Lev meowed, and Yaku sighed for about the fourth time that hour. As he walked, he couldn’t help but pray that Shibayama would get home safely—if he _didn’t_ have a home, Yaku really hoped he would find one soon.

 

~~~~-~~~~

 

The following day, Terushima and Bobata were driving around the neighborhood aimlessly, singing stupid songs, messing with the car, and wondering why the hell it was so cold out when it was only the beginning of August. They also talked about one of their easier assignments sent from Fukurodani, but decided not to worry about it until later in the week. Even though they were bored out of their minds, they weren’t really in the mood for work; they wanted a new adventure, something different than dancing or karaoke, or, as Rintaro called it, “carra-oh-kay.”

“Seriously though, why does Rin pronounce everything right _but_ that?” Terushima said, messing with the window wipers. “He’s not from a different country, and it’s the same as karate, and he pronounces _that_ right!”

“I don’t know,” Bobata laughed, turning around the corner sharply. “We’ll have to work on it with him.”

 

Yuuji’s cell phone rang, and he grinned when he saw who it was.

 

“Well _hellooo_ , Keiji! What do you need from me?”

“Hello, Terushima-kun.” Akaashi greeted mellowly. “We’re having a brief meeting with Nekoma. If you wouldn’t mind, we’d like you to bring you and your gang as well; we have some statistics we’d like to discuss.”

“Whatever you want, babe.”

Akaashi was silent on the other line, causing Bobata to snort with laughter.

“Please be there by three.”

“Sure thing, babe!”

 

Akaashi hung-up, and Terushima cackled loudly, flipping his phone shut.

 

“Well, we’ve finally got something to do.” Yuuji announced, reaching over to flick the turn signal on. “Let’s round the boys up; Akaashi-kun wants us to go to a meeting at three. We’ll show up five-minutes after, just to arrive in style.”

“Ooo, a meeting.” Bobata repeated. “Did he say what for?”

“Something about statistics. Apparently there’s a new problem hovering over Tokyo.”

“Pf,” Kazuma scoffed, turning the car. “When _isn’t_ there a problem in Tokyo?”

“True that, Bo.”

 

After picking Rintaro up (bombarding him with teasing about his pronunciation of karaoke), along with the other Johzenji crew, they drove over to Fukurodani’s mansion, still as delighted as ever at the sight they were met with. The Fukurodani mansion was incredible; who knew dark grey, white and gold could make a home look so fashionable? There were so many accents and decorations lighting the place up, but the dark grey kept a certain mysterious atmosphere surrounding the property—Terushima figured Bokuto had been behind the golden owl statues spread throughout the landscape. He seems to enjoy showing off quite a bit, a trait they both shared.

Either way, Johzenji was happy be here. Being invited was a constant reminder that Fukurodani valued their loyalty, their skill, and even their personalities; never in a million years would Terushima ever think that he would take orders from someone, and yet, here he was, finding himself more at-peace with Fukurodani, Nekoma, and even Karasuno than he ever was when it was just he and Bobata running around the streets of Tokyo.

 

Haruki Komi was there at the front door with a smile.

 

“Hey guys! Did you have trouble finding the place?”

Terushima laughed and slugged an arm around the little bar owner. “You’re okay kid,” He grinned. “You’re okay.”

“You’re not even older than me, Yuuji-kun!” Komi replied. “And I’m sure you know that you’re five-minutes late; you’re lucky Akaashi and Yaku aren’t finished with their business yet.”

“Awww, I was hoping to kill two birds with one stone!”

 

Komi laughed and led Johzenji up the winding staircase of the mansion; Terushima found it amusing that despite being gangsters, Bokuto and Akaashi had paintings of bunnies, owls, gardens, and framed postcards all over the walls of the house. Apparently, Akaashi-kun had taken a vacation to the Chiba prefecture five years ago, which is where he met Bokuto; before they became a bonded pair, Keiji had trained Bokuto into the yakuza, and he became a very admirable and spirited part of their organization. Yuuji often dreamed that if he took a vacation, he would find Yachi wandering the streets.

Komi opened the door to Akaashi’s office, and Johzenji was greeted warmly by Bokuto, the entire Fukurodani gang, the sparkplug So Inuoka, the aggressive hitman Taketora Yamamoto, and, wouldn’t you know it, Kuroo Tetsurou.

Kuroo was lounging on the love seat, and his lazy, yet cool, mate Kozume Kenma was sitting beside him, hiding his face behind his sheets of ombre hair. Terushima liked the kid, thought he was amusingly disinteresting for being an unspecified member of Nekoma yakuza; for a moment, he had forgotten about the week-long fling he had with Kuroo a few years back—but once glance from those dark, dependable eyes brought all the memories back.

 

Terushima and Tetsurou had been instant friends upon meeting, and Kuroo liked to take credit for making Terushima a little more serious about his job; eventually, after sampling one too many of Rin’s alcohol mixtures, they had ended-up fooling around in the back of Kuroo’s car. They decided to try whatever this was, because Yuuji was always up for something new, and Kuroo thought it could be good for both of them, but by the end of the week, it was pretty obvious that they just weren’t compatible as anything more than friends. There were no hard feelings, and it wasn’t exactly awkward seeing him, because really, Terushima could never feel awkward about anything, but ever since then, each time they saw each other, there was just this hilarious, strange feeling he got from looking at the guy. Maybe it was because they had gotten to second-base a few times during their fling—then again, maybe it was just because Kuroo was able to feel awkwardness, unlike Yuuji.

“Kurooooo what’s up?!” Terushima greeted happily, jumping on the arm rest of the love seat and ruffling his friend’s hair up. “How long have you been bumming around here?”

“Oh, like you haven’t been driving aimlessly for the past five-hours looking for something to do?” He grinned in a cat-like manner.

“No way!” Yuuji cried. “I’m always having fun, don’t you remember, Kuroo?”

 

His ex laughed again, and Johzenji took their spots in the small office, waiting for Akaashi and Yaku to return from whatever business adventure they were sorting out together. Terushima amused himself with Bokuto by playing with the elephant statues sitting on a nearby bookshelf, and as they hurried to try and put them back, hearing the light footsteps of both Yaku and Akaashi, Bokuto dropped his and broke the trunk off. Yuuji snatched it up and hit the piece behind a fancy bowl a mere _second_ before the pair walked in.

“Good afternoon.” Keiji greeted with a nod, hurrying to his seat.

“Hey hey hey, Morisuke!” Terushima smiled at the tiny man, stealing Bokuto’s catchphrase for a moment. “How goes it? I haven’t seen you in a while!”

“It’s going fine,” Yaku said politely, shuffling his papers. “Are you bored out of your mind yet, having no assignments?”

“Ehh, we’ve kept ourselves entertained with karaoke and Dance Dance Revoluation.”

 

At the mention of karaoke, Johzenji snickered to themselves at the inside joke, making Rintaro roll his eyes, and Bokuto look at everyone else in confusion. Akaashi ignored them and began the meeting, starting by saying that there was nothing terribly wrong, that no one was in trouble or anything, but that their recent statistics showed that there could be trouble in the making. Yaku had been running reports on the omegas Johzenji got information on weeks ago, and came to the conclusion that they were under the influence of sexual drugs that affected heats and even the omega’s sense of smell; why had this become so popular?

 

“To get straight to the point,” Akaashi said. “There’s been a spike of prostitution that goes along with these drugs.”

“Don’t other yakuzas get lots of money from that shit?” Terushima asked seriously. It was always in the back of his mind, the idea of Yachi being amongst these street performers; that was one of the secret reasons he had agreed to Fukurodani’s partnership. They thought prostitution was a dangerous and unnecessary means of money. There was really no power to it, either, since prostitutes only made a handful of money, and were whacked after complaining about their share.

Yaku nodded in response, and it seemed to everyone that he was taking this very personally.

 

“Yeah,” He said bitterly. “They do. What we’re concerned about, however, is an old group that might be trying to make a new run by collecting all the prostitutes and harnessing them to one owner.”

“Do any of you remember Shiratorizawa?” Keiji asked.

“Pf,” Terushima scoffed in distaste. “Those bastards? Or, should I say, that one bastard? He’s nothing but a perverted old fruitcake tryna steal a couple dimes from his workers; that is, if he has any left.”

“While I agree with you, Terushima-chan,” Kuroo said. “I see why this might be worrysome. Karasuno doesn’t have a good history with Shiratorizawa. Karasuno hates what happened to their home-town girl Shimizu, and if things get ugly with them, they might get ugly with us.”

“So?” Bobata retaliated. “They have no army. They hardly have any workers. We could whack them all in one night if we really wanted to.”

 

“We don’t know that.” Akaashi answered lowly, silencing the room. “We don’t know them anymore. It’s true, they may not have any strength in numbers…but I can’t help but be cautious. I called Johzenji here today because I’m assigning them to a special task.”

 

Everyone looked at Terushima and the others, who grew serious at being addressed.

 

“As long as it’s fun, we’ll do it.” Terushima grinned.

 

“I’m sure you’ll find great amusement,” Keiji said dryly. “We want you to gather information on Shiratorizawa’s current status. I’m sure you’ve heard of the club _Body Electric_?”

“Ew,” Bobata grimaced. “Isn’t that the place where they totally disrespect the arts of Japan?”

“Yup.”

“Hey, as long as Rinny’s there to mix our drinks, I don’t care where we go.” Yuuji joked.

 

Akaashi almost rolled his eyes again, but stopped himself when he saw that Yaku was waiting to speak again.

 

“We do have some information already ready for you,” He told Johzenji. “Komi found out that the only consistent prostitute of Shiratorizawa’s is an omega named Konoha.”

“Konoha; got it.” Terushima nodded.

“And I may have ran into one last night as well.”

“Really?” Kuroo asked in surprise. “You went out last night?”

“I forgot to lock Lev’s cat door.” Morisuke mumbled, lowering his head.

“Pfff! Well at least some good came from it!”

 

Shiratorizawa, huh? Terushima thought, mind going dark. That’s a stupid name. It’s too hard to say. Why didn’t they just pick a simple one? No one’s going to join a yakuza they can’t pronounce the name of. I know I wouldn’t…why the sudden interest in prostitution anyway? Is there joy in forcing people to have sex with other people? I don’t get it.

“Yuuji?”

“Huh?”

Everyone was looking at him.

“What do you think?” Bobata asked.

 

“It’s cool,” Terushima nodded. Only Kazuma noticed his sudden stiffness. Others took it for readiness. “We’ll do it and report back on Monday morning.”

 

“It’s settled, then.” Akaashi nodded. “Johzenji will be at the _Body Electric_ club on Friday night.”

 

Terushima bowed his head; in the back of his mind, he had a feeling he was getting into something much deeper than he intended.

 

 


	3. Family Resemblance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Delicate secrets are revealed...

 

On Friday morning, Bobata was hurrying through the streets of Tokyo with a coffee cup in hand. That was how he usually was on Friday mornings, since Thursday was his poker night with the rest of Johzenji, and it was crucial that on a day where something was planned, you went along the rest of your day like usual. And so, Bobata was waking himself up for the hour drive to the speed races downtown, scooting past people with murmured apologies. His mind was ready for excitement, ambitious for purpose—he was thinking so quickly it was a wonder he knew where he was going.

 _Shiratorizawa_ , Kazuma thought to himself. _Old style yakuza, which rhymes with Kazuma, but only a little; owned by Tanji Washijo, a seventy-something geezer who used to be a high-class mobster back when Karasuno’s Godfather was still in business. There were lots of wars back then, Tanji losing every time because of his spinelessness and arrogance; after several losses in a row, his money dried-out, and he retaliated by kidnapping Karasuno girl—_

 

A spilt second of aloofness resulted in Bobata’s coffee being spilled over some guy’s back; it wasn’t a large spill, but there was a noticeable stain on the light purple dress shirt.

 

“Whoops!” Bobata said, letting loose his alpha scent in case the guy was about to freak out on him. The people here should know him well enough to not challenge him, anyway; it was one of the natural perks Bo took advantage of. “Sorry about that.”

The guy turned around sharply, his features close to a rage, though softening immediately upon recognizing Bobata.

“Oh—oh, it’s cool, dude, don’t worry about it! It’s an ugly shirt anyway…hey—gimme this.”

Kazuma looked up from where he was trying to stop the dripping from his cup to see the guy tug a scarf off the boy he had been hiding between the brick wall and his chest. He took a moment to be insulted by this asshole’s disregard for other’s personal property, then turned his attention to the person whose grey scarf was now being used as a rag.

 

Bobata was not disappointed.

 

Standing to the side was a tiny beta trying to make himself invisible against the wall; his arms were stiff at his sides, unsure what to do. He couldn’t have been taller than 5’6, reaching to Bobata’s chin, maybe a good lightweight of 125 pounds…his hair was a dark tan color, falling down in short little waves, one piece sticking down the middle of his forehead—Kazuma found himself wanting to tuck the strand back, if only to feel its soft texture. The omega’s eyes were worried and round, dark with a weary expression; stress lines were speckled across his features, first on his forehead, then near the blush on his tiny round cheeks. His mouth, though small and downturned, was very kissable, even though he looked incredibly uncomfortable. Bobata would soon find out that it was his natural expression.

His newly exposed neck was subject to the cool autumn breeze, and even though Bobata praised his alpha-self for being polite and in control, this time, he allowed himself to take a silent sniff—whoever this stranger was smelled like citrus, like a tropical island, like fresh oranges in the early hours of sunlight, seconds after being picked and split open, juices overflowing from the skin. Kazuma immediately found himself daydreaming about how that skin would taste under his tongue, under each and every one of his senses, as he carefully ran his fingertips over every single cell on the beta's body…

 

“So you’re Bobata, right?”

It took Kazuma a long moment to realize that the other bastard was talking to him.

“Yeah,” He said, giving a weak grin. “That’s me.”

“Well I’d be willing to buy you another cup of coffee,” The alpha said. “My treat.”

“That’s okay. I don’t even really like coffee that much.”

 

Lie: Bobata needed coffee to be so energetic all the time.

 

Arata Tsuchiyu, as his client and this Bobata guy talked, silently wondered how he had never seen him around before; surely he would have remembered someone remotely handsome…he hadn’t had a good looking client in months. Even the young guys just weren’t his type—although…Arata was sure his type had long ago blurred between what he received versus what he wanted…

So why was this chestnut-haired, strange eyebrowed, lean-bodied alpha affecting him? More importantly, why was he letting him affect his senses? It was obvious that he liked what he saw in those dark, proud eyes…Tsucchi knew he would probably be stuck underneath him later on…so _why_? Why did he feel this way?

 

Once the alpha finally accepted Kazuma’s apology, he turned to Arata, tucking the dirty scarf back around his neck.

 

“I’ll be there tonight,” Bobata heard him mumble seductively. “I’ll be there for the show, too. Don’t disappoint.”

That being said, the guy gave one last bow to Kazuma, then strutted down the sidewalk. Before he had even turned around, Bobata turned all his attention to the other omega, not stopping himself from reaching out to take the stained scarf from off his neck, only partly because he didn’t want to coffee to interfere with the beta's natural scent.

“Sorry about your scarf; I’ll replace it.”

 _Say something, say something_ , Kazuma begged, looking down at the boy. _Let me hear your voice…_

“You didn’t ruin it,” He replied quietly. “It’s fine…I’ll just wash it when I get home.”

“Well, I’ll buy you another one anyway.” Bobata smiled. “So what’s this show I’ve been hearing everyone talk about? Are you a dancer?” In the moment, Bobata was too entranced by this omega to connect the dots. “Jeez, I should probably ask for your name before I start wondering about your job and stuff. I’m Kazuma Bobata.”

 

Bobata wasn’t one to shake hands out of the yakuza, but he made an exception today.

 

The omega looked at the hand, almost in confusion, then slowly laid his much-smaller palm into Bobata’s. “Arata Tsuchiyu.” He introduced gently.

“Arata Tsuchiyu,” Kazuma repeated in awe. “Great name. It suits you.”

The tan-haired boy gave a short bow of his head; when he looked back up, the mood in his expression had changed drastically. Arata’s eyes were dark with intention, and his posture straightened drastically—Bobata was taken aback by this appearance, almost taking a step back, though he was stopped by Tsuchiyu taking a step forward, up and close in his business. This was his job, after all…and if this was what it took to get a couple hundred from a moderately-polite, good looking young man, Arata was going to step-up to the plate.

And it hurt him to do so.

 

“The show’s at the Body Electric.” He whispered in such a strange way, managing to sound frightened and luring at the same time. “We have it every Friday night…it’s fun. You’ll definitely have a good time.”

 

Arata slid his favorite scarf off, and tucked it inside Bobata’s suit pocket.

 

“If you behave…I can give you a special show, after hours, too...”

 

At this point, Kazuma wasn’t sure if he should be terrified or turned-on; it was a mixture of both. He didn’t act on either sensation, instead choosing to stand there blankly, focused on the expression of Arata’s wide black eyes, wondering if he was seeing the same person. He almost jumped out of his shoes when the tiny boy gave a small exhale of air in his direction— _feeling_ and _tasting_ that just made him want to—

“Well I don’t know about the second part,” Bobata forced his dry mouth to say. “But I haven’t been to a show like…whatever it is the show is, but I’m willing to try anything.”

Arata’s expression faltered to one of utter confusion, and his lips were tight with anxiety; _what the hell kind of response is that?_ He thought, inavertedly taking a step away. _How do…what do…what do I say to that?_

“O-Okay.”

_Nailed it._

 

Bobata, to Tsucchi’s surprise, laughed lightly at that, and his expression softened to one where his eyebrows weren’t so challenging.

 

“So where is this _Body Electric_ club, exactly?”

“On West 22nd Street.” Arata replied. He was still holding his arms stiffly at his sides, and his neck was getting cold. At the mention of the street, Kazuma’s mind went back into yakuza mode—he immediately remembered the mission Johzenji was on, and set-out to get as much information from this cutie as possible. Maybe he could get ahead of the game, but part of him would be disappointed if the boy turned out to be just another silly omega prostitute…then again, maybe he could help the boy out if he gave-up a significant amount of information.

“22nd Street…Shiratorizawa owned?” Bobata confirmed.

Tsucchi paused before answering.

“…Yeah.”

“Cool. I know him a little…he’s a pretty old bastard, isn’t he, that Washijo guy?”

 

Arata opened his mouth, but closed it again—his instinct had already figured out that Bobata was asking a little too many questions for just wanting to see a show. He didn’t give himself enough credit; then again, there wasn’t really enough time in the world to let himself reveal in his small successes.

 

“I’ve never met him.” Arata lied. His scent had overwhelmed the alpha’s nose again. “The show starts at eleven…I hope I see you there, Bobata Kazuma.”

 

Only when Arata was five-blocks away did Bobata manage to respond.

 

“Yeah…see you there.”

 

~~~-~~~

 

Near ten-thirty that night, having redressed himself into a fancier silver suit, redid his hair, changed his piercings to match his outfit, Terushima was waiting for the rest of his crew to come piling into his yellow Ferrari; as stylish and as fast as it was, they always complained that it was uncomfortable to ride in because of how small the nearly-non-existent backseat was. Terushima, in a surprising turn of events, never got speeding tickets, and not even because he paid the cops off—he liked how it looked, and sometimes he would take her for a spin in an abandoned lot in Tokyo, but other than that, the car received excellent treatment from its owner. Yuuji loved that car almost more than he loved dancing.

“Come on, come on…” Terushima mumbled to himself. Although focused on the task ahead, he couldn’t ignore the fact that he was losing a night to investigate Yachi’s disappearance; that one night of missing information could mean another night of hell for his little sister.

 

The idea alone almost killed him.

 

Bobata was the first to show-up, and as soon as he slid into the passenger seat, Terushima began nagging at him; the entire block he had walked over, Yuuji had watched, and witnessed him lolly-gagging around, holding a grey scarf in his hand. Kazuma liked to think he was too cool to be giddy…but now, Yuuji had something to hang over his head—and he was not going to let this moment pass.

“Hey there Mr. Lovesick.” Terushima teased, immediately catching his best friend’s attention. “What’s that you got there? Lemme see.”

“Keep those dirty hands to yourself,” Bobata said, pushing Yuuji’s grabbing hand away. “And Mr. Lovesick? Do you have any idea who you’re talking to?”

Terushima laughed heartily. “I don’t know, _do_ _I_ , Mr. Lovesick? Seriously though—what’s got you so happy-go-lucky, boy?”

 

Kazuma rolled his eyes, knowing he wouldn’t be able to dodge the conversation with someone as nosy (in his own words, “persevering”) as Terushima. He looked down at the scarf he had admittedly been smelling for the entire day…but it’s not like he did it in a creepy way, or anything…

“This scarf.” He answered simply.

Terushima raised his already-high eyebrows.

“This dirty rag right here? It’s not really your color, Bo.”

“It’s not mine,” Bobata huffed, hiding it in between his hands before Yuuji could grab it. “I ran into one of the performers we’ll be seeing tonight. Well—actually, he’s one of Washijo’s prostitutes that Yaku was talking about.”

“Really…” Terushima said. His friend didn’t miss the way he stiffened up at the mention of the P word, because he had been doing it for so many years now. “And…you stole his scarf? The only one he had, probably?!”

“Of course I didn’t steal it!” Bobata exclaimed. “He was already ringing up this son of a bitch client when I accidently spilled coffee on the bastard and the asshole actually took the kid’s scarf _off_ his neck to wipe his shirt off! And then—oh my _GOSH_ , you wouldn’t _believe_ this, Terushima—the dickweed actually _put_ the scarf _back around_ the poor kid’s neck! I took it off, and then after that he told me about his show and I asked him about it and he had to lure me in, you know, so he took the scarf from me and tucked it into my pocket, and _then_ , he told me about how he could show me a good time after the first set of shows were done, and I think you know what he meant by that. Not that I’m considering it or anything…it wouldn’t be right of me, and plus, the kid’s probably not even legal!” He took a second to gain his breath back. “It’s a shame…he seems like an okay kid…well—if all else fails tonight, I can set up an appointment with him to try and squeeze some info out…”

 

In his ranting, Bobata hadn’t noticed the rest of Johzenji piling into the back of the car; they were all staring at him in confusion, Rintaro blinking at him in surprise.

Yuuji broke the silence by patting Bo on the back.

 

“Alright…glad we got that off your chest, Kaz.” He said, hiding a laugh as he put Bobata’s seatbelt on for him. “While you’re reflecting on your new scarf and boyfriend, let’s take a ride to club Body Electric. Sound okay?”

Bo gave a huge sigh as Terushima tore into the street; Johzenji took advantage of the fifteen-minute drive.

“So—Bobata babe,” Higashiyama said. “You been carrying that scarf around all day?”

“Is there still a scent left?” Rintaro added, trying to reach around the seat. “Can I smell?”

“No way, _I_ wanna smell what omega’s got Bo so worked-up!”

“Who said it was an omega?” Terushima piped-in.

“Shut up,” Bobata mumbled through a laugh.

 

Yuuji didn’t miss the way he carefully re-folded the scarf before slipping it back into his suit pocket.

 

 

As soon as the group pulled-up to _Body Electric_ , the atmosphere changed.

 

Rintaro would now be called Jiri by the other Johzenji members, as it sounded slicker, more gangster-ish; his neatly styled hair was glistening with sparkles from his hairspray, the front bangs perfectly flicked over his eyes. He looked pretty like an omega, which was why Terushima considered him a force to be reckoned with.

Nobuyoshi Izaka, who had been on vacation prior to this day, had his stern, cocky expression all ready to go, which ensured the spectators that the minds of Johzenji didn’t think alike—this was a lie, as they all shared the same energetic flare, but their system wouldn’t work unless the world was kept in the dark about their similarities.

Katsumichi, the slicked-back haired, furrowed brow man had a golden colored suit on, sure to attract the attention of everyone in the club, much to his amusement; Kat would be the one that befriended every old bastard with drinks and talks of omega slick, although he himself had only ever been laid by an omega once in his life…

 

Terushima, of course, became wickedly playful, keeping his mouth locked into half a smirk, his posture cool and casual. People loved that shit. Sometimes Yuuji wondered how it was possible to live off acting, drinking, and talking—he had a pretty good life; he knew everyone’s secrets, and nobody knew his—he’d like to keep it that way. His confidence came from this fact, and so, he was the front runner of the group as they strolled-up past the line, greeted the bouncer, and strutted inside the club.

(Bobata, the poor soul, was terrified that he wouldn’t be able to control himself if he saw Arata in a sexy Japanese robe, but pushed this out of his mind by reminding himself that he wasn’t here for the omega—he was here to _save_ the omega by getting information from the club’s regulars.)

 

“I’m disgusted, yet intrigued by this place.” Yuuji said loudly once they were inside. The main ballroom was dark, but bustling with energy as most of the people moved to the three other entrances that led to the appropriate show at the appropriate time.

“It’s a dump, but they cover their tracks nicely.” Bobata added, taking note of the grey, decaying wood, how it was shielded by the lights all being turned off.

The ceiling was high, and the group found their way around by the neon lights and dim sparkles from the vintage disco ball above. The title, _Body Electric_ , was hung above four separate doors, glowing with yellow, pink, blue, and orange in a cursive font; Terushima could hear lots of talking from the first door, and brushed the escort away to satisfy his curiosity and burning dislike for this place.

“Well,” Higashiyama said. “See you on the other side.”

Yuuji didn’t need to remind them what they were here for. Yaku made it perfectly clear at the meeting that Shiratorizawa was attempting to make a comeback; Terushima was here to ensure that didn’t happen in the near future. First thing first, they had to get information on how Tanji’s prostitutes were treated, how many of them there were, how much money they made per customer—it would be challenging, but never impossible, and always fun.

 

But tonight, Terushima was no longer in the mood for fun.

 

 _Sweet talking_ , Yuuji thought to himself as the other brushed past him and greeted some of the better known people in the club. _I think I’ll go straight for the knife tonight…I’ve wanted to meet the bastard whose car(s) I fucked-up…_

 

Above the first door read the words

_FAN SHOWS_

_UMBRELLA SHOWS_

 

Terushima went inside.

 

The room was lit with neon candles at each table, every group of people clumped closely together to fit in the smaller room; a stage was illuminated with blue and pink lighting, though the setting was covered by a thick curtain. Yuuji noted that the rest of Johzenji were spread throughout the room, and immediately singled out the very specimen he was searching for:

Tanji Washijo.

Terushima’s fist clenched at the pathetic sight; the old eagle bastard was sitting right in the front, which probably made things all that more uncomfortable for his performers…Yuuji knew he sure as hell wouldn’t want to be dancing around half-naked in front of his employer. He wouldn’t be embarrassed, per say, but it would probably fluster and annoy Akaashi so much that he kicked Terushima and the rest of Johzenji to the curb.

 _This is Shiratorizawa’s leader?_ He thought with a smirk, shaking his head as he made his way over to their table. _I knew I pegged them right…they rely on the strength of others to gain income and power. Their name wouldn’t even be known if it weren’t for Karasuno’s previous rivalry with them…this is how far he has to go to even get his name mentioned in a casual conversation. Pretty omegas and a whole lot of booze._

_Let’s get this over with._

 

Terushima ignored the astonished gazes sent his way and dropped into a seat in the table next to Tanji’s, where they were sure to see him arrive; he struck-up a casual conversation with another yakuza group that had come to enjoy the show.

“NiNi, my man! Come to hunt some omegas?”

“Naturally,” The young hitman laughed. “Nothing like a good show to end the week with.”

“Got that right,” Yuuji laughed his devious laugh. Sometimes he used to scare Yachi with it, but he could never scare her _too_ much. “Fukurodani’s been busting my ass for two-weeks straight…it’s nice to get some time to kick back and watch some pretty omegas dance.”

“How much cash did you bring?” NiNi asked, his eyes sparkling with the mention of money.

“About a grand.” Pitiful lie. “I’m hoping to spend it on just one piece of ass, though…you know what I mean?”

“Do I ever!”

 

Halfway through their conversation, Terushima was tapped on the shoulder. He had been waiting for the gesture for a few minutes.

Turning around, he came face to face with one of his old school mates, Tendo Satori, whose wide eyes were hiding great excitement.

 

“Yuuji-kun; Washijo was wondering if it was too much to ask for you to please sit with us for the remainder of the show. He wants to know your likes and dislikes.” The red-head said.

Terushima grinned.

“Anything for my old school chum!”

 

Yuuji stood-up and stylishly turned around, locking eyes with the eagle himself. Tanji watched him carefully as he slid into the seat next to Tendo; Yuuji could feel himself being sized-up, and he couldn’t help but grin as he remembered the glass he had shattered out of this old geezer’s cars.

“Tanji Washijo,” Terushima said seriously, but with a wicked smile. “I can’t believe we haven’t met before.”

The man grunted in response, shaking Terushima’s hand with his own wrinkled, heavy one.

“Your name and affiliation escape me.” Tanji admitted.

“Terushima Yuuji, at your service. Me and my gang Johzenji have been employed by Fukurodani for a few years now.”

Washijo’s bushy eyebrows raised.

“Fukurodani…you don’t say. I haven’t been in contact with them in years.”

“We should get on that,” Yuuji nodded eagerly. “It’s good to have friends in Tokyo…but with your experience, I’m sure I’m telling you what you already know.”

 

Tanji looked away from Terushima.

 

“Indeed.”

 

Suddenly, the curtains were drawn; music began playing from loud speakers in the corners of the room, something seductive and raspy with over-dramatic gasps in between each syllable. Every alpha and beta went silent, their hormones stinking the place up, but with the appearance of the dancing omegas, their scents were completely overpowered.

Maybe it was the amount of perfume they were wearing…maybe it was the sensuality of their dancing…whatever it was had every person in the room enchanted.

 

Including Terushima.

 

There were three omegas on the stage; the one on the left had a black and orange kimono on, a slit on the side to reveal his long tan leg, a fan made of black crow feathers covering most of his face, and traditional Japanese performing make up caked on his skin.

Tadashi Yamaguchi was very uncomfortable.

The tiny one on the very right had on a yellow and grey kimono, which reached almost a good three-inches past the soles of his small feet, and was waving a fan that was solid grey with sparkles and antique design. He too, had traditional Japanese make up on,

Arata Tsuchiyu was very uncomfortable.

 

Yuuji heard murmurs of approval in the crowd; Tanji himself nodded once, and told Terushima that these were three of his greatest performers.

“Tadashi has a certain shyness about him that makes him amiable,” He told him under the music, leaning closer. “Arata, the little one, has strange power in those wide eyes of his. They’re all specially trained for Fan Shows, by some of the best choreographers around Tokyo.”

“Who’s that?” Terushima asked.

“Which one?”

 

In the middle of the two performers was one of the most beautiful omegas Yuuji had ever laid eyes on; it was rare to find someone of this kind who could pull-off being lanky and young at the same time. It seemed, however, that this striking creature had it all down to a science—in his white kimono, pattered with crescent moons, the boy moved lithely, ducking and slowly wagging his hips back and forth to the music. The slit on the side allowed Terushima to see his medium toned skin, practically glowing with shine, the same going for his long, slightly-stunted fingers. They seemed to be the only part of the omega that he knew like the back of his hand, Yuuji noticed…they were more freeing, easier to move than the rest of his body.

The fan this omega held was white as well, with one huge white feather right in the middle; two yellow jewels were hanging from the end of the fan, matching the heavy earrings he was wearing. Although his mouth and most of his face remained covered by the fan and make up, Yuuji was sure he had never seen such an intriguing omega before. Yes, he did find some passer-byers attractive…but romance was never really on his mind.

 

When this omega began to duck and dip and swerve to the music, Yuuji found himself being glad he came, if only to find out that there was such a thing as perfection.

 

“ _That_ one.”

 

Washijo got as close to a smile as he could ever get.

“Ahhh…you mean Takeharu.” The bastard said. “He’s one of our best Umbrella and Fan performers; he’s easy to notice, is he not?”

“Mmm…” Terushima hummed, refusing to take his eyes off this Takeharu character. Man he wished he could see his eye color… “He’s very good. Is he yours?”

Tanji almost laughed, which finally managed to get Yuuji to stop looking at the omega. “In a way,” Washijo replied. “In a way, he and the other performers belong to me. But if you’re referring to the act of bonding, no; they are not mine in that way. I don’t allow them to bond with any alpha, no matter how much they offer.”

“Good choice.” Yuuji forced out, remembering that he was still acting. “It’s best to keep your weapons close to you.”

“That it is,” Washijo nodded. “That it is…”

 

Roughly twenty-minutes later, Terushima left the Fan Show feeling unsatisfied and irritated.

 

He had wanted to see the real Takeharu. He never showed his face during the entirety of the performance, and even though Yuuji praised himself on his keen sense of smell, he didn’t catch a single whiff of the omega. All he was able to detect was perfume and the smells of the other two omegas, which, as nice as they smelled, didn’t interest Terushima in the slightest. He hurried to the next room with Tanji and his robots, shooting a glance Bobata’s way as he did, surprised at the unusually stern look on his friend’s face.

The next show, to Terushima’s extreme relief and disappointment, did not involve Takeharu. There were two new black-haired omegas who joined Tadashi on a stage with a runway and single strip pole, where they shed their designer clothing and performed acrobatic stunts on the pole. That was when the money began being shifted and thrown onto the stage, once Tanji gave the signal for part of the stage to be shifted inward, allowing the customers to get up-close and personal with the strippers.

“The one to the right is Chikara,” Washijo informed Terushima, who he mistook for having great interest. That wasn’t exactly a lie, as he was gathering information for Fukurodani, but Shiratorizawa’s leader definitely directed his interest to what he wanted to be true. “The one to the left, the other dark-haired one, is Yuki.”

 _Yuki_ , Yuuji repeated silently. _Yaku had a file about someone named Yuki…_

“Are either of them to your liking, or are you still preferring Takeharu?”

 

Terushima looked over to where Ennoshita threw his choker necklace to someone in the crowd.

 

“Well…not that I’m interested in bonding, but I’d very much like to see one of Takeharu’s shows in the future.” Yuuji said carefully, keeping his smirk honest.

Washijo nodded and thought for a moment.

“If you’d like to meet him, the performers and I all stay after the shows to have some drinks and meet the customers. You and the rest of your Johzenji pack, wherever they may be, are welcomed to stay as honored guests.”

“Thank you,” Yuuji bowed his head respectfully, though he’d just as soon rather light Washijo’s club on fire than give him respect. “I would be truly honored to meet one of your omegas, Tanji-san.”

_More like Tanji-SUCK!_

“Takeharu will be the first one you meet.” Washijo said quickly, pleased at the young man’s mannerisms.

 

By the fifteen-minute mark, Terushima and the strippers were on the same page:

 

_The end of this strip show can’t come soon enough._

 

~~~-~~~

 

Once the two shows were officially over, the money all gathered and the performers having changed into more comfortable (but still slutty and _un_ comfortable) outfits, everyone was shuffled into the main hall, where the tables were pushed to the sides and more bartenders brought out to work. Johzenji was escorted to their tables by Washijo and Ushijima, who then left to attend to other matters, leaving the young gang to start their first round of drinks, on Terushima, who was happy to see Komi from Fukurodani show-up for the last-minute party.

“Komiiii!” Yuuji cheered, handing him a glass. “Came to keep an eye on us, huh?”

“Actually, I’m here for business too.” Komi said, shooting the drink back quickly. “If you need me, I’ll be chasing prostitutes.”

“Alright. See you later, buddy!”

“Terushima, are you drunk already?” Jiri asked, taking a shot glass from Yuuji’s grip. “How are you not tired from poker-night? We went until four in the morning!”

 

Johzenji laughed and glanced around the room, which was now bustling and hustling with gangsters who were practically drooling for the omegas, who had yet to leave their group of five. Terushima could smell another’s presence, and was informed quietly by Bobata that Komi was in pursuit of that specific omega, who was known to be a prostitute having been caught in the act by the police several times. His name was Akinori Konoha, but that was all they knew. Komi had been instructed to approach the prostitute with the intention of gathering information; if he had to do so by sleeping with him, he was to do it.

Terushima hoped, for Komi’s sake, that the prostitute was willing to speak.

As the night went on, it became very clear that the performing omegas were tight-knit; they were all at the bar together, drinking soda instead of alcohol, making sure that no one touched their drinks but themselves. Yuki, the smallest one of the bunch, disliked being given attention and frequently used his friends as an excuse to not reply to the alpha who had confronted him. Ennoshita and Tadashi were sitting closely together, and even though Tanji had said bonding his omegas was forbidden, Terushima could smell something a lot stronger then friendship there.

Eventually, Bobata went to give the little Arata boy a new scarf, which he had forced Yuuji to stop for before arriving at the club. Terushima decided to wait alone at their table—Washijo had promised him Haru, and his stubbornness wasn’t going to allow him to move until he had sat down with the omega and forced his nose to catch his natural scent.

 

For a good ten-minutes, Terushima stared at Takeharu.

 

Now out of his costume, Yuuji could appreciate his facial features more, and noted that despite his line of work, Takeharu had an innocent, bubbly, approachable expression on his face; his eyebrows were high with encouragement, his brown eyes warm with adventure. He never strayed far from his group of friends, which allowed Terushima a straight view of his long legs, his humorously bare-feet, and his adorable frame hiding beneath a black leather jacket and a dark blue dress that barely reached passed his upper thighs; the fabric was looser than the other omega’s dresses, but Yuuji would have to be a fool to not notice how thin the boy was, borderline unhealthy.

It reminded him of Yachi, for some reason, and he found himself lowering his head in shame.

 

Commotion around the bar caused him to look back up; Washijo, though much smaller than Takeharu, was practically dragging him in Terushima’s direction, holding him firmly by the elbow. Yuuji stood-up and smoothed out his suit, knowing he would have to put his feelings aside in order to get some good information out of this omega—judging on how highly Washijo spoke of him, Terushima guessed the omega heard a lot of shit he probably wasn’t supposed to. He was eager to stop this train of prostitution, and eager to stop Takeharu from being forced to becoming one of them.

 _Be cool_ , Yuuji said to himself, watching as Takeharu came closer and closer. _Don’t scare him off like normal alphas. Your scent sucks anyway, so he won’t be attracted to you; just comment on his skill and beauty, loosen him up with some casual conversation…then ask him what other performances his friend Arata gives._

 

Within a few seconds, the omega (who, damnit, was about an inch taller than Yuuji) was right in front of Terushima, his owner by his side. Takeharu was meant to come closer, but had stopped abruptly about a foot away; Yuuji didn’t really notice. He was too busy staring, completely star-struck by an overwhelming scent of chocolate, and something like rose petals, sweet and sultry—it was addicting. For a full minute, Yuuji could think nothing of that scent, which had come on slowly, then burst into his nose like an explosion.

“Haru…I would like you to meet Terushima Yuuji. Terushima, this is Takeharu.” Washijo said. He didn’t notice how Johzenji’s unofficial leader couldn’t take his eyes off the omega, nor how pale his performer had become. “I have some business to attend to, but why don’t you two sit down, have a few drinks…I’ll be back in a little while. Enjoy your evening.”

 

Tanji bowed and walked away—only then did Yuuji recognize the sick look on the omega’s face.

 

Haru had been staring at this gangster since Washijo pointed him out; he had no memory of walking across the room, no memory of being threatened by Tanji, no memory of anything except for when he stopped a foot short of this mysterious person—he couldn’t believe his eyes. He thought he was hallucinating. He thought he had died and gone to heaven, or had been drugged by something in his drink.

 

There was no way, no way in HELL, that this person was standing here right now.

 

_“I miss niichan,” Yachi whispered one night, cuddled up between Konoha and Haru on the hard floor._

_“You have a brother?” Haru asked quietly._

_“Mhm,” Yachi nodded. “He’s older than me…we have the same eyes. He was so nice to me…I…I miss him.”_

_When the small omega began to whimper, both Konoha and Takeharu put their arms around her in comfort. They knew how much the fragile soul was hurting; she had a family, albeit dysfunctional at times, but they understood her pain._

_“It’ll be okay,” Haru accidently lied, stroking her newly-cut hair. “I bet he’s looking for you right now. I know he misses you just as much as you miss him.”_

_“We’ll protect you until he can come rescue you, okay Yachi-chan?” Konoha whispered gently. “He’ll rescue you, and then this will all be over.”_

_Little Yachi nodded in the darkness, scooting closer to Haru, trying to savor his warmth as trembles over-took her frail body._

_“Okay,” She sniffled. “Niichan will save me…and then…we can go home.”_

 

Those same brown eyes were here now, looking evenly at Haru, but…they were different, somehow. These were unmistakably the same, but the constant spark of mischief, the splash of thrill on the outside lines set them apart from Yachi’s.

 

“Hi,” The alpha smiled, slowly bringing Haru back to reality. “It’s nice to meet you, Takeharu. Thank you for agreeing to talk with me for a while; would you like to sit down?”

 

Haru replied with the only thought going through his mind.

 

“You look like her.”

 


	4. Yachi's Box

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sh*t goes down--but more goes down in the next chapter...

 

Terushima’s blood froze.

 

“What?” He said, both sternly and empty of emotion. “What did you say?”

 

Haru was unable to answer—he couldn’t look into those eyes anymore, the ones that had haunted him for years, the ones he missed so dearly…it was unbearable. He couldn’t do it. His emotions and mind were already weak enough, and what little strength he had was already run-dry. He couldn’t do this. He had to get away from Terushima, Yachi’s older brother who she waited six-months for.

It was too much, seeing those eyes after all this time…

 

Takeharu turned and bolted.

 

_No. No. No. This can’t be happening. Yachi…her brother…why is he here? Why…why now?_

Haru abused himself with questions to the point of almost hyperventilating; he stumbled outside into the alleyway and tried to collect himself, only to have his legs become so weak they could no longer support his weight. He collapsed against the wall, holding his legs tightly to his chest, willing the images to go away. Yachi was _everywhere_. Everything he saw, this damned alleyway, especially, painfully reminded him of those wide brown eyes, full of innocence and anxiety…the ones he had learned to find comfort in during those first six-months…

“ _Haru_?” A voice said. Oh god…was it Yachi’s ghost? “Haru,” It repeated. “Haru.”

Futamata finally looked up, seeing that he had run in on Konoha, who had previously been making-out with a client against the wall in the corner. Konoha was breaking himself away from the rich bastard, and immediately hurried towards his friend, ignoring the complaints of the guy he left half-hard and all hickeyed-up.

 

Konoha knew better than to ask what was wrong; the only answer that question ever got was crying. He checked to make sure Haru wasn’t injured, then placed a hand on his scent glands to get him to calm down.

For a few seconds, Konoha helped Takeharu get his breath back—but as soon as he began to breathe normally, the door leading to the alleyway burst open, and out came Terushima.

 

His eyes were on Takeharu like he had never left his sight; they were blazing with anger now, not with the excitement or energy as before. The almond color had been overcome by the darkness of his black pupils, and his body was practically shaking, either from anger or confusion, no one could be sure. Either way, he was coming up on Takeharu, and he was coming up fast.

“What did you mean?!” Terushima asked in a shout, pointing down at Haru. “Tell me who you’re talking about!!!”

Konoha shielded a shocked Haru, holding him closer to his chest. He’d dealt with his fair share of angry alphas; the only way to stall their anger was to tell them what they wanted to hear.

“Haru,” He whispered gently. “Haru…tell him what you meant so we can go home.”

“I—I—”

“Look!” Yuuji exclaimed, desperately trying to control himself, but unable to do so. Can you blame him? Years spent looking for his little sister…hearing someone say he resembled her on the night which he was supposed to be searching for her…it was too much of a struggle. Those words put him right over the edge. “I’m only going to hurt you if I find out you’re fucking with me, or if someone paid you to fuck with me! Tell me who I look like! Who were you referring to?! _Please_ just tell me who the _fuck_ you were talking about!!”

 

Something about the pure desperation in Terushima’s plead made Haru remember Yachi’s love for her older brother; he remembered how she had said he would come, how he wouldn’t let her down, how she would be so happy to see him again because he was the best brother ever. Stalling his knowledge of Yachi for these past few minutes must have been torture for Terushima…once Haru realized that, his heavy breaths came to a stop. His body froze. He stared up at this alpha with fear, only it was now overcome by concern.

 

How _long_ had Terushima been waiting for a break in the case? He’s been searching for years…how many nights has he spent lying awake, wondering where she was, what she was doing, if she was even still alive? How badly had he been hurting? How badly _was_ he hurting?

Haru exhaled softly, and found his voice.

 

“You look like Y-Yachi.”

 

If Yuuji wasn’t breathing before, he _definitely_ wasn’t now.

 

 _Yachi…Yachi…Yachi…how long has it been since I heard someone else say that name?_ Terushima thought, unable to form a coherent idea of what he should be feeling and doing. _I look like Yachi. Does that mean he knows where she is? He knew her? That bastard Washijo might have been the one who took her. He took MY Yachi away. Does he have any idea how fucked he is? When I get my hands on him…_

_But…if that isn’t how this kid knew her…where does this trail lead?_

 

A moment of blinking and strange silence was broken by the client Konoha was supposed to be dealing with.

 

“Hey,” The guy hissed in annoyance. “I’m not paying you to ignore me; I’m paying you for a good fuck.”

“Tell me something I _don’t_ know.” Konoha snapped back.

“You should go,” Haru suggested, regaining his senses and confidence. “Be careful.”

“What?” Akinori replied in confusion. “Haru, I can’t leave you here…”

“I’ll be okay.” _How do I know that?_ “I’ll be okay. Just…go do your business, okay? Try to be home by morning. I’ll make you some breakfast.”

Konoha stared at his friend for a long second; he knew he wasn’t lying. Haru _never_ lied. Despite his love for harmless pranks and silly candy-wrapper jokes, he hated lies and anyone who lied to him.

 

Before standing up, Konoha gave Terushima, who was watching them but seeing nothing, a cold, hard stare; it wasn’t a glare at all. It was just an ultimatum. Had Yuuji been paying attention, he would have understood the look—Johzeji gave them quite often in their line of work.

“Hellllloo?” The client chimed in.

Konoha stood up and rejoined with the asshole, leading him out of the alleyway.

“Call me when you get home,” Akinori called back to Haru. “One ring.”

“Okay.”

 

When Konoha and the client left, the alleyway was completely silent.

 

Takeharu and Terushima hadn’t taken their eyes off each other, and Yuuji finally seemed to realize that they were now alone. He wasn’t sure where to start, what to ask, what to think, what to do…Haru wasn’t in much better shape. The one thing he did know, however, was that he had to tell Terushima the absolute truth. It was going to hurt both of them; it was going to hurt so damn bad…but it had to be done. Terushima had waited this long; Haru had waited this long with the information all bottled-up inside his heart, and now, it was time. Takeharu wasn’t worried about his own reactions, however personal they were—Haru was never afraid to cry. He actually found comfort in crying, though it pained him to see anyone else cry.

Haru’s concern was Terushima’s anger.

Alpha anger differs from omega anger; while omega’s cut themselves off and start hissing and glaring and snapping, alphas proclaim their feelings in a much different way. They might yell…they might scream…but mostly, they hit things. Walls, lamps, picture frames, windows, car hoods, _people_ —angry alphas were terrifying. Once they went past that limit, it was difficult to get them back to reality; the only sure way was to let them cool down on their own. Haru was scared that if he told Terushima the truth, his mental state might not be the only thing hurting.

 

 _But…if Yachi trusted him…_ Haru thought slowly, seeing a glimpse of her inside Terushima. _There’s no reason why I should be afraid._

 

Shakily, but surely, Takeharu stood up.

 

 _I can do this, I can do this_. Haru leaned on the wall for support, and straightened his posture to face Yachi’s brother; Yuuji himself had come back to earth, and was standing attentively, eyes never leaving Haru. Neither of them could believe what was happening—the night started so simply, so routine—neither knew that their night would take a wild turn such as this. They didn’t know that everything would change from one introduction. Takeharu liked to think that this was for the better, for both of them, two people who cared about Yachi during her short life.

For a second, they stared at each other in disbelief.

 

“How…” Terushima began slowly. “How did you know her?”

Now that it was his turn to speak, Haru was struck-dumb.

“I—I—I can take you to her!” _What?_ “If…if that’s what you want.”

 

 _What I want?_ Terushima wondered loudly to himself. _What I want to see Yachi. I want to see Yachi alive and well, not made a prostitute or a stripper or WORSE. I want her to be okay. I want her to be okay. Yes! Take me to her! Take me NOW!_

 

“My car’s down the block,” Yuuji said quickly. “How far away is she?!”

Haru swallowed, mouth moving without saying anything. _Shit. I think I’m lying, but I’m not sure…I didn’t lie, exactly, but I didn’t clarify the truth either…what do I do now?_

“A few minutes.”

Terushima hurried out of the alleyway, leaving a motionless Haru behind. Only when he unlocked the car did he realize that his leader was nowhere in sight.

The pair almost (literally) ran into each other, Terushima jogging towards the one person in the world who seemed to be on his side, Haru scampering towards the one person in the world he felt needed his help most. Takeharu backed-up a step, realizing he was still bare-footed after feeling a tiny rock break the skin on his heel.

 

“Come on,” Terushima said, giving Takeharu’s jacket a quick tug. “No time to waste.”

 

Haru watched the starry-eyed alpha sprint towards his yellow Ferrari, regret and guilt beginning to pool in his stomach, weighing him down as he made his way over. Everything was on the line now. Terushima would murder him in cold blood if he backed-out…but he was still scared. _Man_ was he scared…scared of his memories, scared of Yachi, little, harmless Yachi, and her brother…her lookalike brother…

 

 _No, Terushima Yuuji_ , Takeharu realized sadly, stepping into the opened car door. _We have all the time in the world._

 

~~~-~~~

 

It took them less than ten-minutes to get to Tanji’s building.

 

During that ride, Terushima was both nervous and elated; he couldn’t wait to see Yachi again. He took three wrong turns because he couldn’t focus on the road, couldn’t focus on anything but the idea of his little sister. _What does she look like now?_ Yuuji wondered excitedly. _How long is her hair now? She never used to cut it, I wonder if she changed the style, or dyed it—I hope she didn’t do anything drastic. Blonde is her color. I wonder if she still wears those cute little ponytails with the animals on them. I wonder if she’s tall—I’m not very tall, so she shouldn’t have grown much, but I bet she’s still the same weight, because she loved to eat…unless whoever she’s with has been starving her._

Yuuji shook his head in disgust, whipping around another corner.

_I hope this kid knows what he’s talking about; he doesn’t seem like a liar…I wonder how well he knew her. If he knew her at all. How does he know where she is?_

 

During Yuuji’s hopeful wanderings, Takeharu was watching the driver with caution and interest; he hadn’t really looked at him during their introduction, aside from the eyes. Now, he noticed Terushima’s piercings (not the tongue one, which would come as an unsurprising shock later on), and admitted to himself that Yuuji was the only person he had ever known who could pull those off. Aside from the eyes, Yachi and her brother were very different; Terushima’s hair was a little darker than Yachi’s light blonde strands, and the underside was dark brown, possibly his natural color. Haru found this cool. He also took note of the constant trace of a devilish grin on the right corner of Yuuji’s lips—even in his angry/confused state, the smirk was present.

Takeharu observed Terushima’s anxious state, watching as he kept licking his lips and tapping his long fingers against the steering wheel; even though he was pretty sure he was taller than Yuuji, Haru liked how Yachi’s brother had to slide his seat back a good distance in order to let his legs comfortably rest on the seat. His skin wasn’t pale, nor fair like Yachi’s; basically, both of the Terushimas were one of a kind.

 

Catching sight of Haru from the corner of his eye, Terushima put his silent evaluation to rest.

 

“Only our eyes are the same.” Yuuji said, not looking over. “She inherited a lot more charm and physical attractiveness than I did.”

Although he wasn’t looking, Terushima noticed the omega give a pained smile and look the other way.

“Where is this place, exactly? There’s a few bars this side of town…a few apartment complexes…is she in one of those?”

“No.” Haru answered as gently as possible. “But…she’s…she’s very close.”

 

Something about Takeharu’s tone made Yuuji suspicious; he glanced over, seeing that Haru was avoiding his eyes, but still not ignoring him.

 

“When did you last see her?”

“Um…”

“Months ago? Years?”

“Years.”

Terushima cursed under his breath.

“Then how do you know where she is? Are you in contact with her?”

Haru looked over, unblinking. He was feeling sicker and sicker by the minute.

“Not anymore.”

Yuuji was trying to ignore his serious tone.

“So you did know her? You haven’t just heard of her?” He questioned, not bothering to turn his blinker on as he skidded through the final street.

 

Impending doom sunk over Yuuji’s chest when he heard Haru release a trembling breath that had to be revived by a hiccupping gasp.

 

“I-I _knew_ her.” Takeharu forced out.

 

When Haru pointed out the street corner to park on, Terushima wasn’t sure if he was excited anymore.

 

_I knew her…I knew her…I KNEW her…I used to know her…that’s what he’s saying. If that’s what he’s saying, in that kind of tone, with that much of a struggle…_

Yuuji’s heart lurched inside his chest, coming alive with terror and pain.

_I can’t even think it. I can’t._

 

Haru was too wrapped-up in his own anxiety to realize that Terushima’s breaths had become audible; the yellow Ferrari was now parked right in front of Tanji’s main office, the building that hid an entire warehouse of empty rooms, where Takeharu and the other members of the Delicate Roses had been forced to remain for a whole year during their evaluation. The entire building was made of brick and cement, with little to no heating, little to no air conditioning. Everyone had to keep warm by huddling together under their blankets, which, although thick, were not always enough to keep their bodies at a healthy temperature.

This was especially true for children with weak immune systems like Yachi Terushima.

 

The car engine was turned off, and Haru snapped his head over to look at Yuuji.

 

Terushima was frozen in place, hand still on the ignition key; his eyes were moving rapidly, going through a mental list inside his head. Haru wasn’t sure if poking him was the right move, so he tried to wait patiently, even though he would rather get this whole thing over with—he hadn’t had drama in his life like this since Mika went missing a few years back. He never _ever_ expected Yachi to come back to haunt him…he was hoping the whole thing was over with. He loved Yachi like a sister, but thinking of her always made him depressed, and with his lifestyle, hardly getting by each month, performing for money he rarely received the full check for, working on the side as a dishwasher for a local five-star restaurant during rush hour…

Haru really didn’t need more melancholy in his life.

That was why his chest was aching so badly.

 

“Let’s go.” Yuuji said.

 

Haru didn’t reply and stepped out of the car, noticing with a chill, that Terushima’s voice was lower and much more dangerous.

 

The night was cool and dark, the streetlamps offering a bit of sight for the two strangers on the sidewalk; Haru’s strength was leaving him more and more, the closer he realized he was to Yachi, the warehouse, all those awful, heartbreaking memories…one in particular was harassing his soul to the extreme. It was all he could think about—it was all he could feel, being steps away from her…

“Where to?” Terushima asked. There was no more excitement in his voice.

“T-Through there.” Haru nodded towards the narrow space between buildings, his voice coming out in a shaking whimper. Yuuji’s greatest fears were realized, and yet, he still left himself in the dark.

“Lead the way,” He said. “Please.”

 

Reluctantly, Haru took a step forwards.

 

 _Oh my god_ , Takeharu thought silently, jumping as soon as his arm came in contact with the brick. _I can’t believe I’m here again. I don’t want to be here. Someone get me out. Someone help me. I don’t want to go in there. I don’t want to go in there._

Terushima waited, not out of patience, but more of his own sudden reluctance, for Haru to move forward.

 _It’s okay, it’s okay_ , the dancer told himself, inching through the two walls. _It’s fine. Yachi won’t hurt you. Terushima won’t hurt you, as long as you tell the truth. Just tell the truth. Show him the truth, Haru_.

Yuuji followed Takeharu through the opening, shuffling sideways behind him, accidently stepping on his feet when Haru found himself refusing to go any further. He kept telling himself that he had to do this for Yachi; she had waited for her brother to save her, and now, Haru was going to deliver him to her. She would be _so happy_ when she saw him again—that was the idea that kept him pushing forward, deeper and deeper into the alleyway.

“Where are we going?” Terushima asked once they emerged into a larger opening.

“Just a little further.” Haru whispered. He didn’t trust his voice to not be on the verge of tears.

 

The pair went forward again, entering another alleyway; this time, Haru was visibly shaking, and once they went past the halfway point, he stopped in his tracks. Yuuji stepped on his foot again and looked over, having run-up against his body from the sudden halt.

“Well?”

“She’s right around the corner,” Haru all-but yelped, closing his eyes tightly. “Y-You go ahead.”

“If—”

“I’m _not_ messing with you,” Takeharu interrupted desperately. “She’s back there; I—I just don’t want to go any further. You go ahead…s-she’s in the very right corner.”

 

That being said, Haru took off again, practically shimming over Yuuji’s lap before squirming through the walls, trying to claw his way out of this escape route, which he had only discovered after they were released from Tanji’s capture. He thought he could handle it, but he just couldn’t do it. He couldn’t handle the look in Terushima’s eyes. He wouldn’t be able to handle his fury, his heartbreak, his emotions…

How could he help Terushima when he couldn’t even face his _own_ emotions?

 

Haru crushed a few of his toenails, but he finally made it out on the street, and only then, could he breathe again—but that was over in a split second, when he stumbled over to the curb, sat down, hugged his knees to his chest, and began sobbing.

 

_“I hate winter,” Twelve-year-old Takeharu whispered to himself through cold, bluing lips._

_The warehouse had been freezing for a good two-months now, and even when they were supplied winter clothing for their outside “playground” (which was really just a tiny alleyway), they found themselves most often wearing the clothes while inside the building; currently, Takeharu was wearing a stocking cap, two pairs of pants, two pairs of socks, and fingerless gloves. Everything their little fingers touched sent prickles of discomfort through their blood, and they would curl-up to the nearest Rose for comfort. That winter was when Konoha found out that omegas can calm each other down by nuzzling and touching each other’s scent glands._

_Frustrated, cold, and exhausted, the lanky Haru pulled his thin blanket further down, trying to cover his bare ankles, which were so because he had hit an unexpected growth spurt during the fall season. He accidently brushed the back of his chilled hand against Yachi’s neck, who he was sharing the blanket with._

_“Sorry Yachi-kun,” Haru whispered, reluctantly opening his eyes to apologize. He hated accidently making Yachi cold, because she could never get back to sleep when she was cold. Aside from that, Yachi had come down with an illness during the first days of winter, having been suffering for three-months now. Waking her up would be a jerk thing to do; ever since Haru had known the little girl, she had been sick and coughing—she needed all the rest she could get._

_Yachi was bundled-up on her side, facing Takeharu, like always, but…something was off. Yachi usually slept with her mouth open, not by her own admission, but because she drooled a lot; this morning, her lips were together, not tightly, not loosely. She couldn’t have been breathing through them, but it probably wouldn’t have suffocated her, either—her eyes, in a strange twist of events, were open just a smidge, enough to where she could see out of them. Haru watched her for a while before determining that she might already be awake; he figured they could get some early breakfast if they woke everybody else up, too. A warm breakfast sounded like heaven, so he used his usual method of waking Yachi up in the morning._

_“Yachiiii,” Haru cooed in a mumble, wiping his cheek against hers. “Time to wake-up, onjichan.”_

_He poked her heavily-clothed belly for good measure, sighing as he let his heavy head lean on her neck._

_“Yachi…it’s morning…time to get some breakfast. I think we’re having your favorite today…maybe we’ll get some hot coco again. Doesn’t that sound yummy, Yachi?”_

_Haru leaned back, expecting to see Yachi’s wide brown eyes flickering open to blink tiredly at him._

_When she didn’t move, Haru was shocked._

_“Yachi?” He repeated, sitting up completely. “Yachi? Are you okay?”_

_Konoha heard the commotion from a few feet away and rubbed his eyes, crawling over to investigate. Haru was frantically poking and prodding at Yachi’s face, jerking his hands back when a single touch to Yachi’s lips nearly gave him frostbite. “What’s wrong, Yachi?!” Haru cried, reaching inside her three coats to feel her jugular._

_There was no heartbeat._

_“Yachi,” Konoha said seriously, moving her head. “Yachi, this isn’t funny.”_

_Not giving up so easily, Haru stuffed his hand down Yachi’s shirt; part of him was hoping that alone would be enough to wake her from this deep slumber, but still, she never moved a muscle. Haru’s palm was flat against her chestbone, and the world became eerily quiet as he and Konoha waited for a sign._

_That’s when Takeharu realized that Yachi wasn’t sleeping at all—_

_She was dead._

 

Haru bawled harder into his knees, curling his toes up for protection from his inner demons. Meanwhile, in the back of Tanji’s alleyway, Terushima had emerged into a long, but still small opening; it was difficult to see anything, but the moon provided some dark light for his eyes, which immediately drifted over to the right, where Takeharu said Yachi was. Yuuji’s heart was pounding with hope, though with some reluctance—

At first sight, there was nobody in the corner.

Squinting, Terushima slowly walked closer, confirming that he was the only living person in the alley; before he could grieve over this point, the moon casted light over the bottom corner of the concrete, revealing a set of words carved into the stone.

Yuuji wasted no time in reading it.

 

**HERE LIES YACHI**

**12 YEARS OLD**

**R.I.P**

 

_After an hour of complete hysteria, screaming and crying, Konoha finally controlled his voice enough where he said they had to bury Yachi. No one knew what he was talking about except for Takeharu, Ennoshita, and Arata; after locating a shovel in the warehouse, while bawling their eyes out and hugging Yachi’s lifeless body, they carried her out to the alleyway for a proper burial._

_Due to the frozen ground, they weren’t able to dig very deep, but deep enough where Yachi’s tiny frame would fit. Arata wasn’t even crying at this point—he was completely void of emotion as he fixed Yachi’s hair underneath her stocking cap, slipping her cute little elastic band on a few strands of her hair. Before any of the boys could fathom what was happening, they began pouring the dirt back onto her body. As scarring as this event was, the omegas, unfortunately, knew it was necessary._

_What would Tanji make the maids do if they had discovered Yachi’s body first? They tried to comfort themselves with the fact that they loved Yachi enough to bury her like she was, not what that eagle bastard was about to make of her. After the year evaluation, Konoha’s name was called for prostitution, along with Arata; when he passed by the lady with the clipboard, he saw the last name on the list, and was crudely thankful for Yachi’s earlier death._

_But that didn’t make it hurt any less; years later, it still hurt—it hurt like it had just happened yesterday._

 

 _No_ , Terushima thought slowly. _No…_

 

Fifteen-minutes later, near one o’clock in the morning, Haru was startled out of his trance by someone laying a hand on his shoulder.

Looking up, blinking the tears out of his eyes, Takeharu was frightened to see a different alpha standing over his body, trying to give him a charming smile.

“Now who made a pretty little omega like you cry?” The man said, curling his fingers around Haru’s shoulder. “And no shoes either? Tch tch tch…he must’ve been a real bastard, huh?”

Haru tried to find his defensive mode, but his emotions were blurring the path, and he couldn’t remember any of the excuses he used to get out of situations like these.

“N-No,” He sniffled roughly, breath catching in his chest. “I-I ran away, a-and my a-alpha’s coming to pick m-me up.”

“Ahh, I see…” The stranger nodded. His fingers were trying to discreetly stroke against Haru’s neck glands, making him shiver with fear, reality starting to drift back. “If I were him, I wouldn’t have let you out of my sight; you’re much too beautiful to be crying on the sidewalk so late at night…I’d be willing to pay you a pretty penny—”

“I’m not a prostitute!” Haru cried, anger welling-up inside him.

 

The alpha stood there, stunned for a moment, as the omega glared up at him while trying to wipe his tears away.

 

“Hahaha!” The man laughed suddenly. “With an outfit like that, I find it a little hard to believe you.”

 

Before Haru could reply, the alpha leaned down and tore the leather jacket to the side, revealing an empty space between his shoulder and the bottom of his jaw.

“Wow! An alpha who didn’t leave a mark on his omega?” He laughed.

Haru made a tight fist and repeatedly brought it down over the alpha’s forearm, managing to get him to release the jacket; he struggled to get to his feet, and saw that the stranger was beginning to move on him; before he could, however, another hand came out of nowhere, grabbing onto the man’s blazer so tightly the fabric began to rip.

“T…Terushima-san!” The alpha exclaimed, making Haru look over. Sure enough, there was Yuuji, face covered by the shadows of the night. “I apologize, if I had known this was your omega—”

“He’s not,” Terushima spat. “But even so, I don’t appreciate you harassing omegas on Fukurodani’s part of town. Get the fuck out of here, and if I ever see you again, your head is going to be on a stick. Understand?”

 

He didn’t wait for an answer, and shoved the alpha away.

 

Haru couldn’t tell if Terushima had been crying; his entire expression was both unreadable and completely full of obvious emotion. The lamplight provided him with a glimpse, but not enough to get a hint as to how Terushima had responded to the sight in the alleyway.

Yuuji wasted no time, and opened the Ferrari passenger door.

“Where do you live?” He asked simply.

Takeharu struggled to speak as he limped over to the car.

“The—The um…i-it’s the one on t-twenty-fourth. Twenty-fourth street.”

“Okay.”

 

Terushima shut the door, and didn’t even slam his own when he got in the driver’s side. He started the car quickly, turned the radio up, and looked both ways before pulling off the street.

 

Haru was still recovering from his sob-session, but his curiosity was struck; although he hadn’t known Terushima for over an hour, he thought this was unusual behavior for someone who had just discovered his little sister died and was buried in an alleyway. Where was the rage? Where was the hatred, the questions, the depression? Why hadn’t he been triggered by the alpha who harassed Takeharu? The trembling omega had some questions of his own he wanted to ask, but not tonight. No…tonight had been too tiring already.

Haru was not looking forward to telling his roommates about his night.

“You’re probably cold,” Yuuji mumbled to himself, turning the heat on. “How are your feet?”

 

 _Like I can answer that_ , Haru thought, choosing to close his eyes and turn towards the window instead of responding. For a few minutes, they drove in silence, neither striking-up a conversation about the weather, choosing to remain in their own subconscious. Takeharu was trying to get himself to stop crying, but every time he closed his eyes or remembered who he was sitting next to, he saw Yachi, and that was enough to make tears drip from his eyes each time.

On the driver’s side, Yuuji was thinking of nothing but driving, the streets, the quickest way to get to twenty-fourth street. He only hit two red lights along the way, and noted that it was a record for him, as he usually got stuck in traffic for three-hours.

 

Unfiltered tension was heavy in the air.

 

“Is that the one?” Terushima asked a few minutes later. Haru opened his eyes to see Yuuji pointing to a shitty apartment complex to their right.

“Yeah.” Haru sniffled.

Terushima parked by the curb, and reached over to open the passenger door; as he began to pull his hand back, a realization hit Haru—he reached out and grabbed onto Yuuji’s arm, not remembering that touching a silently furious alpha was bad news.

“Wait—Wait here, please.” He requested, eyes going wide. “I have something—just—just wait here, okay?”

 

Terushima paused, staring back with his almond-colored eyes, then nodded shortly.

 

Haru all-but sprinted up to his apartment, where none of his roommates were home yet. Without turning on the lights, he rummaged through the things he kept hidden in their bedroom wall, reaching as far back as he could go—when his hand touched a hard wooden surface, he gasped, and wrapped his fingers around the object.

Haru pulled out a delicately crafted box, and ran back to Terushima.

Yuuji watched and waited for an explanation as Takeharu sat there for a second, just looking and holding the box so tightly his fingers were turning white. He and Yachi had found the box upon their arrival at Tanji’s warehouse; it was a special box, only opened by an omega’s scent, so that no alpha could snoop or steal. Haru recalled how many items of Yachi’s were inside, including one that would probably mean the most to her brother, and one that would make it feel as if she was right here beside them.

The remaining Delicate Roses had their fair share of terrible, plain torturous days and nights over the years—on these days, they would circle around Yachi’s box, and lean down to get a whiff of her scent. It never failed to comfort them immediately.

 

Haru released a calming breath just _knowing_ what was inside, then finally explained.

 

“This is Yachi’s box,” He said quietly. “We found it together while we were inside the warehouse. Whenever we made or found things, we put them in here, because we wanted them to be safe, and only an omega can open it.”

Terushima stared at the box with blank eyes.

“I mean, some of my stuff is in there too, but it’s mostly Yachi’s.” Haru was speaking faster because he was getting nervous over Yuuji’s unresponsive expression. “I can open it for you now, so you won’t have to get someone to do it later, if that’s what you want…”

For being a cool, slick, confident guy, Terushima was at a loss for words now.

“Okay,” He said lamely.

 

Haru nodded, then peered back down at the special box; he was hesitant to open it because he didn’t want Yachi’s scent flying away. _I mean, what if one day her brother decides it’s too much, that he doesn’t want it?_ Haru reasoned with himself, hand ghosting over the useless key hole. _If I give it to him…I no longer have anything to turn to on my worst days…_

 _But Haru,_ another voice added _. Terushima has bad days, too. What about him?_

_What about her brother?_

 

“Don’t—Don’t leave it open for too long, okay?” Takeharu pleaded softly, looking over at Terushima. “The scents are protected inside, and they might start to fade if you leave it open for over fifteen-minutes. I—I know she’s your sister and everything, b—”

At the mention of the word ‘sister,’ Terushima’s entire body tensed, like the word had sent a slow electric shock through his veins. Haru snapped his mouth shut immediately, waiting for those alpha rage hormones to overpower him, make him submit to the pain and dominance. When seconds passed with nothing happening, Haru glanced down at the box, and realized that he had subconsciously opened it.

 

A small, but powerful smell was leaking from the thin opening; the concoction was both a mixture of Takeharu, crayons, flowers, and Yachi—definitely Yachi. It was only a brief moment, but that faint scent had caused great response in both parties.

Haru shut the box quickly, knowing he wouldn’t be able to contain his emotion for much longer.

“I’ll leave it with you,” He said quickly, carefully laying it on the passenger seat as he climbed out. “If you need someone to open it, you can come find me, or just anyone else, it doesn’t matter, just don’t leave it open for too long.” Haru was slowly losing his composure, his words weakening with each syllable. “I’m sorry. I hope I helped a l-little bit. Goodnight.”

 

Just as Haru tried to bolt away, a hand grabbed his arm. Looking back, Yuuji was staring at him seriously, expression both pained and, quite possibly, grateful.

 

“How did she die?” Terushima asked lowly.

 

His eyes were wide enough that Haru considered him to be closer than Yachi than the brother thought himself to be.

 

“She had a bad cold during the start of winter,” Takeharu whimpered softly. “A-And it was cold, i-in the warehouse, and she just…didn’t…didn’t wake-up one morning.”

Terushima’s eyes didn’t change, but he released Haru’s arm almost limply, looking down at the box laying on the passenger seat. A long moment passed, Takeharu not sure if he should leave Yuuji if he had more questions like this, no matter how on the edge he was to breaking down. Eventually, though, Terushima initiated Haru’s leave by turning away and flicking the ignition on again.

“Thank you.” He said.

 

Even though Haru was terrified of the way Terushima said those final words, he didn’t dwell on them for long. Without replying, he hurried out of the yellow Ferrari, tripped and sprinted all the way up to his apartment, dropped onto his bed, and fell asleep crying.

 

After sitting in his car for five-minutes, Terushima hit the gas and sped down the street.

 

The night was far from over.


	5. Chances

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who you gunna call? Yaku Morisuke.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a head's up, I usually only read through these once, so if there are a few mistakes, be merciful, even though I know how annoying that crap is

 

_Earlier that same night…_

 

Yaku Morisuke, despite all the paperwork he had to go through, despite how many calls he had to make, decided to take a break from his work to change into his pajamas; thankfully, he was working at home that night, so no one was there to keep him confined in the horribly uncomfortable grey suit he wore. Kuroo always insisted they wore red, and it’s not that Yaku didn’t _like_ red, he just didn’t want to wear it every single day of his life; there are only so many red ties in the world, and nobody appreciated his Lightening McQueen tie—he figured he deserved to wear whatever he wanted, as long as the job got done.

“Fresh and ready to go, Lev.” Yaku exhaled, slumping back into the chair in front of his work desk. “Now that I’m out of that damn monkey suit—”

 

No sooner than mumbling the insult, one of four phones rang across the room.

 

The first, a red one, only rang when someone called from Nekoma; the second, a dark blue one, was Fukurodani; the third was orange, Karasuno, and since Johzenji had only recently been inducted as a part of Fukurodani, Yaku had installed a grey wall phone—that grey phone was the one ringing off the hook, which couldn’t mean anything good. At this hour of the night, it was far too late for Bobata to be calling for opinions on who he should bet on for sporting events; it was also too late for Rintaro to be calling about this week’s club gossip, which he loved to rant about to Yaku, and Terushima…well—it could have been Terushima. Sometimes he called just to say hey.

“This is Yaku Morisuke of Traveling Cats, how may I help you?”

“Yaku!” Bobata said, breathless on the other line, causing Morisuke to sit straighter. “Are you at home?”

“Yeah, why? Did something go wrong at the club?”

“Yes and no. I’ve been watching this damn Arata kid all night, and now I lost sight of him because he left with some client, but when I started to talk-up his friends they made a quick getaway, and Konoha got away too, and Terushima’s gone, and I went after the other two, but they ran away, and I last saw them near Nekoma’s block so I need you to help me please!”

 

Bobata breathed heavily on the other line as Yaku soaked all the information in; as usual, Johzenji went crazy when things became serious, which really isn’t their fault, considering their youth, and this explains why they were _employed_ , not the _employers_.

 

“I’ll check it out,” Yaku agreed, slipping on shoes and grabbing a nearby jacket. “No promises.”

“Thanks Yaku-san—I’m gunna go try to hunt Terushima down. Good luck!”

 

Morisuke hung up and hurried out the door; if there was anything he could do to find out if Shibayama, the mysterious cat whisperer was alive and well, he would do it. He had spent a lot of his free-time wondering and worrying about the poor kid—every night he climbed into bed, he wondered if Shibayama was doing the same, only in his client’s bed, not his own. While Yaku surely hoped that wasn’t the case, he couldn’t help but be on-edge…usually people involved with Tanji were used for nothing else. For having never been married himself, Washijo sure liked to use sex as a weapon. Morisuke would hate to see another young kid fall into that kind of lifestyle—especially one as adorable and as nervously determined as Shibayama.

Well…he _probably_ would have still helped Bobata, even if Shibayama wasn’t so… _Shibayama_ …

As Yaku stumbled outside, yelling back for Lev to stay in-doors, he went through the identities of the pair he was searching for: _Tadashi Yamaguchi is a young omega, technically bonded with the beta Chikara Ennoshita_ , Yaku thought, deciding to check the left street first, where he had found Shibayama. _Tadashi is the taller one, lighter hair, pretty lanky…Ennoshita is more experienced, probably tries to protect Yamaguchi. He has black hair and sleepy eyes, works part time as an intern at a film production company._

Stopping at a silent corner, Yaku used his trained eyes to scan over the dark shadows, the alleyways, the—

 

_Well…that was easy._

 

The two targets were hurrying down the street, on the opposite side of Yaku, arms linked, coats buttoned up to their necks. Their heads were down, their movements quick and rushed—obviously, they did not want to be noticed. They were trying very hard to _not_ be noticed. Ennoshita had his arm linked with Yamaguchi’s, and was walking closest to the alleyways, the most likely spot where someone would jump out at them; Yaku made sure to hide most of his dominant alpha scent before calling out to the boys.

“Ennoshita!” He said loudly, alerting the older one. “Hold up!”

The two forms continued to walk as Morisuke jogged across the street, but halted very abruptly as soon as he came within ten-feet. Chikara was whispering something to Tadashi, who, even as the taller of the pair, looked a hell of a lot more frightened than Ennoshita did. Yaku caught the scent of fear oozing off them, though the oldest was trying to distract from it by speaking immediately.

“What?” He asked quietly, trying to be polite.

Morisuke stopped in front of them, trying to figure out how he could downplay how creepy this situation was. _Two omegas walking down the street are stopped by an alpha—how does the joke end?_

“Are you two friends of someone named Shibayama?” Yaku questioned, moving to explain once he saw how horrified their expressions became at the mention of their friend. “I mean, I’ve only met him once, but I was just wondering, because the night I met him he looked a little upset—is he okay now?”

 

For a second, the boys just stared at each other; Chikara still looked hesitant, but some of the fear had turned into curiosity.

 

“He’s fine.” Ennoshita said.

“Oh good,” Yaku sighed lightly. That sigh didn’t showcase how deep his relief actually went. “Glad to hear that—so…you guys are friends of his, or just co-workers?”

Tadashi’s hand moved, and Yaku noticed it tightly intertwine with his mate’s.

“Friends and co-workers.” Chikara nodded.

“Cool! Oh—jeez, I should probably introduce myself.” The smaller alpha shook his head, holding his even smaller hand out to the older boy. “I’m Yaku Morisuke.”

The sleepy-eyed boy with dark hair swept to the side looked down at the hand, probably unfamiliar with such a formal meeting; slowly, he enjoined his ice cold hand with Yaku’s and shook it once. He didn’t state his name, however, since it was pretty obvious that this stranger knew a lot more about him than he put on. Yamaguchi didn’t go for a handshake, but almost nodded politely at the alpha.

“Do you live near Shibayama?” Morisuke questioned. “Because I really wanted to give him my card—we have a job opening at my travel agency, and I was hoping he’d want to look into it.” He reached inside his jacket to grab the Nekoma business card. “Would you mind giving this to him for me?”

 

Traveling Cats was a disguise and small amount of income for the Nekoma yakuza branch; Kenma had jokingly suggested the name, and was revolted when the option was the only one adequate enough for their shop. Yaku didn’t care for it either, but he liked traveling, and it gave him something to do on weekends. TC was a little shop just around the corner from his apartment; there wasn’t actually a job opening, but Yaku could always make one—the perks of being head of the yakuza. Morisuke wasn’t usually a fan of making jobs when there weren’t any, but for someone as honest as Shibayama, he would do it in a heartbeat.

Chikara took the business card and looked down at Yaku in wonder, and a little bit of speculation.

“Okay…”

“Thanks. Tell him to give me a call whenever, or he can come by if he wants. The address is right on there. And also…” Yaku pulled a different card from his jacket. “This is for you.”

 

Tadashi froze-up, and looked at Yaku with such hesitance it reminded him of how afraid Shibayama had been when he first approached him that night.

 

“What…what are you giving this to me for?” Chikara asked, flipping the card over to read the inscriptions.

“Just for anything,” Yaku said gently, turning his motherly instincts on. “If you need help with business affairs…if you need a job or some help with someone harassing you…just anything, really.”

“W-What makes you think we need help?” Yamaguchi questioned.

Morisuke shrugged and gave a little smile.

Ennoshita stared at the card a bit longer before pocketing it with Shibayama’s card, and Yaku noted that just like the young animal lover, Tanji’s other two workers were wearing nothing but skimpy dresses with thin coats over top of them; they were wearing wedge heels, which seemed a bit more comfortable than regular heels, but not by much. Morisuke remembered that he was in his pajamas, then, and hurriedly tried to get a move on.

“Well, uh...I’ll let you guys go then. Do you need a ride? It’s pretty cold out, and my car’s just across the street.”

“No,” Ennoshita shook his head. “That’s okay…we’ll just walk.”

“You’re sure?”

Chikara nodded; Tadashi hadn’t lightened his grip on the beta’s hand. Despite how society viewed things, betas were perfectly capable of mating and bonding with an omega as well—it was frowned upon, however, but that was the damn politician’s faults, letting their manuscript readers choose what books on mating should and shouldn’t be published…it was no wonder Yamaguchi was so scared. Morisuke was sure they had their fair share of bad run-in’s with people who didn’t believe in that kind of relationship between an omega and a beta; Yaku was an alpha, besides, and although it never took place in any of their territory, there were many incidents where betas bonded with omegas were beaten, or even killed—

 _I’ve never met so many people who are afraid of me_ , Yaku thought, glancing down at their hands once again. _What has Tanji done to them…_

Disappointed, but understanding, Yaku shoved his hands in his pockets and bid them farewell.

“Don’t hesitate to call, okay?” He reassured the pair. “If you’re being treated unfairly or need a hand with something…just let us know.”

“W-ho’s ‘ _us’_?” Tadashi asked bravely.

 

Morisuke paused for a second to study their expressions; clearly they were skeptical that such help was available for them. Someone who could magically make all their problems go away just like that? It wasn’t possible. It was too good to be true. He wished he could tell the boys about how unstable their owner’s foundation was…

 

“People of the underground.” Yaku replied simply. He then gave them a small wave and began to head back to his apartment. “Get home safely. Make sure you give that card to Shibayama, okay?”

“…Okay…” Chikara nodded slowly. “Um…thanks.”

“Thanks for not harassing us!” Yamaguchi added.

 

Yaku gave them a smile and watched until the pair safely made it out of his sight.

 

 _Nice group of kids_ , he thought sadly. _I wonder how such great boys came to be in the hands of someone so terrible and manipulative, so power hungry—they all seem above average intelligence, so I don’t think they went to him at their own free will…I wonder what Johzenji found out tonight; hopefully they collected lots of information. Although if Terushima-kun is missing in action, I don’t think the night went as planned—_

_Unless Terushima has some information, Shibayama might become out of my reach._

Shaking this doubt away, Yaku kicked a rock, and prayed, once again, for Shibayama to stay safe.

 

~~~-~~~

 

Let’s jump back in time: roughly half-an hour earlier, Terushima was dropping Takeharu off at his apartment complex. Once Haru was gone, Johzenji’s leader tore down the street, bleeding his tires out and swerving through traffic blindly, mind blank of all emotion, of all coherent thoughts, with the exception of one.

 

_Yachi is dead…_

_Yachi is dead…_

_Yachi is dead…_

 

As much as Terushima could have pretended that wasn’t true…he had seen with his own eyes. In Tanji Washijo’s alleyway, where the omegas he kidnapped would run around and try to play on a makeshift playground, Yachi Terushima was buried. She was buried in the right corner, with her name carved above, faded from years of erosion. Her body, now a decomposed skeleton, was lying under a pile of dirt, and had been there with no company, no words of guidance for over ten-years. There was no ceremony in her honor, no priest, just her kidnapped friends who forced themselves to bury her body so that their kidnapper wouldn’t dump her somewhere else; they kept her close, since he couldn’t. Terushima remembered how she always caught colds so easily as a child—he was there for her then, by her bedside, trying to make her headache go away, and reading her what little books they had, and making her soup when she was hungry, and…

 

_Since I wasn’t there to nurture her…Yachi died._

 

Yuuji hit the brakes hard, and smashed into the lightpost outside of his apartment.

 

Upon seeing Yachi’s grave, Terushima hadn’t done anything; he didn’t hit the wall, didn’t kick anything, didn’t curse, didn’t cry…but that sinking pit in the bottom of his stomach became a black hole, emptying out anything that had been filling it. All those years of worrying, all those years of searching, of praying and hoping that she would be okay, that if she was alive, she was living well, which seemed like a longshot, but Yuuji had convinced himself that Yachi was such a precious artifact that other people would see that as well, and keep her healthy and happy—after all that…she was dead. It was as simple as that.

Yachi was dead.

But Terushima, her rotten brother who lied, gambled, kissed ass, bought expensive cars, played Dance, Dance Revolution, did nothing but have fun, was still alive.

 

He had never hated himself more than in this moment.

 

Terushima kicked open the Ferrari door, fuming and dead with emotion at the same time, not caring that the front of his car was now leveled. He briskly walked over to the passenger side, taking Yachi’s box out before slamming that door as well; the door to his apartment was kicked-in a second later, and now, Yuuji was inside his own home.

 

After setting the box down on his bed and carefully covering it with a blanket, Terushima went nuts.

 

Not having the patience to secure a weapon, Yuuji crushed his fist into the dresser mirror, shattering every single inch. He hit it five more times before moving to the wall, kicking and beating it as if they were Tanji himself; his hands were already bruised and aching, but Terushima felt nothing—physical pain was absolutely nothing to what he was feeling emotionally.

After dedicating half of his life (the ‘half’ mention making him hit even harder) to this search, and for the journey to end so horribly, to have ended so long ago, before he knew hope was over...it killed him. The only thing he could do to show just a glimpse of what he was feeling inside was hitting and beating everything in sight. Everything he had that he wanted to share with his little sister someday. Everything he bought because he knew she would like. Every piece of furniture he imagined them lazing around on, spending a Saturday together doing nothing but watching TV and eating snacks…he really thought those things were going to happen someday. The abrupt silencer, telling him that these things he wanted were not in any way, shape, or form _possible_ …

 

It was too much for him to bear.

 

Terushima punched the corner of his bedroom wall until the ceiling corner was the only thing holding the upper floor steady; blindly, he moved to his closet and began ripping and shredding all of his suits, his jackets, every last pair of clothing he owned. It didn’t matter that he wasn’t very ripped—it didn’t matter that he hardly never worked out or lifted weights. Anger alone was enough to rip the fabric so effortlessly, and pain, the second factor, was more than enough for Terushima to be pulling the shelves right out of the wall.

The energy flowing through Yuuji’s body was uncontrollable; it wasn’t fun energy like usual. It wasn’t the kind where he randomly broke out in dance or song, or started wrestling with Bobata—it was spiraling rage, jolting him around while continuously rising and rising and rising until Terushima began to _scream_ in fury as he wrecked his entire apartment, inch by inch. Although fifteen-minutes passed, Yuuji was no longer keeping time. What was the point? Time was meaningless to Yuuji now. There was no more “At this very moment, Yachi might be…” or “Maybe tomorrow, Yachi and I will be…”

 

It was _gone_. There were no more twenty-four hours. Time was gone.

 

Forever.

 

By 1:30 am, the couch in Terushima’s living room was thrown through the window; some of the floorboards were ripped out, lodged into pillows and the loveseat in the corner. The carpet was stained from blood dripping from Yuuji’s hands, and the wine he had purposely smashed against the flat screen TV, shorting out the entire system. The decorations were all shattered on the ground into millions upon millions of pieces, Terushima having taken a baseball bat to them; the kitchen was covered in every damned food he had saved for his little sister, food he wanted to share with her, to cook for her, to re-heat for her—it was splattered here and there, under the fridge, inside the cupboards…everywhere.

At last, Yuuji’s mind cleared just enough where a different thought came to his mind: liquor.

Terushima ripped the lock off the cabinet and took the only three bottles of whiskey he had out, only opening one as he continued to break things in the hallway, heading back towards the broken front door.

 

He also had Yachi’s box stuffed under his left arm.

 

In the outside world, the streets were quiet; unusual for a Friday night, but not that Terushima noticed. Two of the whiskey bottles were for drinking, and the final one was for an undetermined reason. As Yuuji stood outside, blood dripping from the cuts on his hands, glass falling quietly from his dirtied clothing, he took a short second to breathe, and began thinking about his car.

_Yachi would hate it. She never liked yellow that much…she would be terrified of how fast it can go. She would refuse to let me drive her around, probably._

Yuuji began to circle the car, his almond eyes glazed over in a trance-like state.

_She would beg me to get rid of it, that she was afraid I would get in a crash and die. She would show me all these other nice sports cars that are more for looks, not speed. She would pick out a blue one, maybe, or to please me, she might go for a burnt orange color…_

_Oh well. It’ll be orange in just a minute._

 

Terushima, juggling the bottles of whiskey in his left arm, along with the box, reached in through the passenger side, which he hadn’t closed, dug through the compartment underneath the dashboard, and pulled out a box of matches.

 

Setting the box down on the street, Yuuji proceeded to break the top of the first bottle off, and pour the flammable liquid on the leather seats, the armrest, the dash, and the backseat. By the time he soaked the entire inside, the first bottle was gone; he figured that was good enough to ruin such a car, and dropped the glass onto the floor. Even in his catatonic state, Terushima made sure that no drop of the fowl drink landed on Yachi’s box.

Leaning back out, the blonde snatched the matches up; from past experience, he knew that a big explosion would happen about twenty-seconds after he lit the fire. Part of him didn’t care if his legs were blown off. The other part cared too much, and so, Terushima struck match, jammed it inside the box, and threw it into the yellow Ferrari.

 

After seeing the flames start to overtake the vehicle, Yuuji turned and walked the other way, missing the loud booming noise of the engine exploding from the extreme level of heat.

 

Terushima, unofficial head of Johzenji, began to wander the streets of Tokyo, forcing the searing whiskey down his throat as he stumbled around, vision hazy with images of Yachi. He wandered like that for a good hour, following those very images, his memories leading him to the main strip of shops and restaurants; there were a few people wandering around, just getting off work and such, but luckily, they paid Terushima no mind, and couldn’t see well enough to recognize him. Yuuji let his dead feet carry him a little further, until the bright lights of a neon sign blinded his dulling eyes, giving his delusional self a sign to stop.

The whiskey was burning his throat terribly, but most of that pain could be trailed back to a different reason; the liquor had made his emotions run free, breaking from their chains and releasing their comments and concerns all over the place. The stress from his body evaporated, and Yuuji let his knees give out from underneath him, leaving him to crawl over to the curb and sit down sloppily, one hand going to his hair as the other held Yachi’s box close to his heart.

 

Only then did Terushima begin to cry.

 

Yuuji didn’t even think he was angry anymore. He would be later, but now, he was just plain _sad_. His mind finally began to think something other than “Yachi is dead.”

 _Why?_ Terushima pleaded silently, holding the box closer and closer, knowing it was his only preservation of Yachi’s memory. The tears were streaming down his cheeks now, and if anyone had spread the rumor, no one would have been able to picture such a scene. _Why did they do this to my Yachi? She never hurt anyone…she was just a little girl. She was my sister; why would anyone take her away from me? Why wouldn’t they let her live? Why did they hurt her so much…why wasn’t she given the burial she deserves? More importantly, why did she have to be buried at all? Why do these things happen to good people? Do they happen to bad people, too?_

Yuuji sniffled harshly, trying to bite back his whimpers, but failing miserably.

_What was the point of taking her...MY Yachi…what kind of sicko takes an innocent little girl for a toy in his get-rich-quick-scheme? Who fucking does that?! WHY?! WHY DID THEY KILL YACHI?!_

 

Terushima was so far into his own ramblings and sorrow that he didn’t even hear the car pull up down the block; he didn’t even realize that Bobata was slowly walking towards him, completely shocked at the sight he was met with. For a moment, Kazuma thought _he_ was the one who had downed two bottles of whiskey—Terushima didn’t cry. He just didn’t. The idea of Terushima crying was almost laughable; yeah, he was a human being, but Terushima doesn’t cry to show his emotions—he gets angry. This was a total turn of events from his usual bucketful of fun. Bobata knew he must have been in a fight or something, judging on his bloody hands and disarray clothing and hair, but…

The crying? What was _that_ about?

 

As Bobata stopped next to his friend, he noticed that Yuuji was holding some kind of box to his chest; there were mounds of questions he so desperately wanted to know the answers for, but none were fit for asking. He was so disturbed by the foreign noises seeping from Terushima’s lips that he almost hopped right back into his car—but then he remembered that this was a public street, and if anyone from rival gangs saw Terushima in such a state, Johzenji would probably be ridiculed and thrown right back to their low state of popularity, just like it was before Fukurodani hired them. Akaashi would be merciful, and so would Karasuno and Nekoma, but still…it wasn’t a good scene to be caught at. The empty bottles of whiskey could make quite a story.

That being confirmed, Bobata sat down next to Terushima on the curb.

Feeling a new presence, Yuuji was ready to smash the person’s head in with his whiskey bottles; he tipped his head back, and upon catching sight of Bobata’s black oxfords, shoved his face back into his knees.

 

They sat there for a good twenty-minutes without saying a single word.

 

Terushima was going in and out of daydreams and sorrows, and when he cleared his throat to stop from choking on his tears, Bobata decided to take a chance.

“We’d better get back to my place,” He said quietly. “It’s late…Akaashi will be concerned if I don’t get back and call him.”

There was silence, then, Yuuji replied with a slurred voice, tipping his head back to get some fresh air in his lungs.

“We need a vacation,” He whined weakly. “We always have fun…but we never go on vacation. _Real_ vacations.”

“Where do you wanna go?” Kazuma asked. He wasn’t sure if Terushima was just drunk, or drowning in his sorrows. “I hear California’s nice this time of year.”

“Yeah…always warm there…we—we could go to that—that one place...”

“What one place?”

 

Yuuji sat up and swayed back and forth, only stabilized by Bobata putting a hand on his back. He hated the shine of tears over those usually playful eyes, hated the way that grin was completely gone, replaced by pouty, downturned lips. The expression was just so… _not_ _Terushima_. It was terrifying and heartbreaking at the same time.

 

“Bel Air,” His friend replied. “Where rich people live, apparently…and have gardens and ponies…”

“Bel Air…it does have a ring to it.” Bobata nodded. “Why don’t we talk to Yaku about it later? I’m sure he’ll hook us up with a deal, maybe a private jet—how does that sound?”

 

Terushima didn’t reply. To Bobata, that was worse than anything. Ever since they had known each other, Terushima had always had something to say; for him to be so quiet now, after just bawling his heart out for whatever reason…

Bobata really wanted to know Yuuji’s secrets.

“Come on,” Kazuma sighed, standing up and guiding Terushima onto his feet. “I’ll help you.”

The fake-blonde struggled to stand steadily, but managed with Bobata’s help; since Yuuji refused to take both of his hands off the box, his friend was forced to practically serve as his backrest, keeping one arm around his shoulder and another around his thin waist. They sauntered forward together, stumbling here and there, until Bobata managed to pry the passenger door open and slip Terushima inside—if he didn’t know any better, he would say that as he buckled Yuuji in, he had started crying again.

 

“Ready to go?” Kazuma asked, turning the heat on quickly. “You’ll stay at my place tonight…you might be hungover tomorrow, but who knows. For not getting drunk often, you sure do have a high alcohol tolerance.”

Bobata looked over at his friend when he didn’t receive a response; sure enough, Terushima was passed out next to him, hair in knots, face a mess with tears, and clinging to the little box for dear life. Kazuma wasn’t sure if he should sigh or cry.

 

Instead, he gave his friend a squeeze on the shoulder, and drove him home.

 

~~~-~~~

 

Takeharu slept restlessly until quiet mumbles in the kitchen awoke him at five in the morning.

 

The dark haired boy was still in his dress and jacket, which were now all wrinkled against his body; the shoes had fallen off somewhere amongst the sheets, and although his feet ached, Haru didn’t feel that pain—the memory he woke to was seeing Yachi’s lifeless body beside him, turning blue from the cold, where as Haru was as warm as could be. _That_ was the pain he felt. It was unpleasant enough where he sat straight up, instead of his usual method of laying around until he was fully awake at around noonish.

 _What happened last night?_ Haru wondered groggily, sitting up with a grimace. _My face feels wet…I think I was crying…I think I woke up crying a few times? Who was I with…Tanji took me to…to…_

_Oh yeah. Yachi’s brother…Terushima…_

“No,” Haru whispered, falling back onto the bed limply. He didn’t want it to be true. He didn’t want to re-live his horrible childhood, Yachi’s death, her burial, the look on her brother’s face—

Before Haru could become overwhelmed, he threw himself out of bed and stumbled into the kitchen.

Ennoshita and Tadashi were just walking in, looking tired, but cheerful, as always; Arata had his pajamas on, but Haru didn’t have any memory of him going to bed next door—he must have come home with Konoha, who was wearing his mess of a dress, hair a trainwreck, the scent of sex surrounding his body and fresh love bites all over his neck. Despite this, he was loosely smiling, which was better than most days after a long Friday night. Tsucchi seemed to be okay as well, though he was noticeably covering the left side of his neck, and attempting to fluff his little wave of hair down over his forehead where it belonged. Yuki was the chirpiest out of the group, hustling around the kitchen to make tea and grabbing little snacks along the way. He turned and spotted Takeharu first, expression immediately dimming.

“Sorry Haru-chan,” Shibayama said quietly. “Did we wake you?”

 

Unable to speak, Haru shook his head, and stood by the table without a word.

 

_Is Terushima mad? Is he going to come after me? Is Tanji going to find out I told Terushima where his warehouse is? Did I get in trouble for leaving last night? Did I mess up Konoha’s client?_

“So,” Ennoshita prompted with a yawn. “Since we’re all up…anyone wanna talk about their night?”

Everyone glanced around, silently looking at Haru first, but Arata chose to speak when no one else did.

“My client was shorter than me.” He smiled proudly.

Konoha snorted his coffee and began choking with laughter, which got a sleepy smile out of Yamaguchi, whose eyes were still closed. Haru chose the distracted moment to sit down between Yuki and Tsucchi, almost managing a pained smile.

“Hey, did anyone else get super annoyed last night?” Konoha asked. “Like, this one tiny-ass guy kept being all civil to me; it was really weird. I was disturbed and intrigued at the same time.”

“Yeah!” Arata nodded eagerly. “The guy I had to give my scarf to came like I told him to, but he kept trying to give me this new scarf, and then when I took it, he refused to let me ‘pay him’ for it, but he kept trying to distract me with casual conversation—I almost didn’t get my client because he wouldn’t stop hanging around me!”

“Yeah!” Konoha exclaimed. “I was talking up this cute little guy who was _ten-times_ more attractive then the guy I ended-up with.”

“Why didn’t you end up with the cute guy?” Yuki questioned.

“It was just the weirdest thing—he talked to me all night, bought me some mildly alcoholic drinks, asked me about my work, and yet, when I started talking to him about going back into the alleyway, he backed-off. He can’t be _that_ scared of alleyways, can he?”

“I’m that scared of alleyways!” Shibayama raised his hand.

“Me too.” Arata nodded.

 

Konoha rolled his eyes and waited for Haru to say something both precious and witty, but he was too busy giving standard glances at everyone around the table so he would seem okay.

 

“Anyway…I gave him one last shot, but he didn’t take it. What color scarf did that cocky-eyebrow guy give you, Tsucchi?”

Arata’s downturned eyes widened, pondering Konoha’s description of the mysterious scarf boy. He wasn’t wrong exactly, but Tsucchi thought they were more like _challenging_ eyebrows; that was a lot more likable quality than cocky.

“Um…it’s basically the same one that one guy ruined.”

“Yuki musta had an easyish night,” Haru said with a dry mouth, forcing himself to participate. “He looks a little better rested than most of us.”

Shibayama smiled a little; although the comment was true, he didn’t want to flaunt, because that wasn’t him, and when two of his best friends were prostitutes, telling them all about his good night wasn’t very thoughtful.

“It was okay. It was cold walking home, though.”

“That reminds me,” Chikara mumbled. “I’ve got a business card for you, Yuki. A guy named Yaku Morisuke stopped Tadashi and I last night and asked me to give it to you; he has a job opening at his travel agency, and he was wondering if you wanted—”

“A JOB?!” Yuki shrieked, eyes growing to the size of saucers. “Where’s the card?!!”

“In my jacket on the—”

 

Yuki was gone before Ennoshita could finish; the older looked a little surprised at the omega’s enthusiasm. It was five in the morning, after all, and out of all of them, none of them were exactly morning people. Konoha chuckled as they listened to him dig around in the apartment across the hall, gasping when he got his little hands on the card.

The worst part? Haru almost wasn’t interested in Yuki’s breakthrough.

Under normal circumstances, he would be running over to Tadashi’s and Chikara’s with Shibayama, eagerly asking what he’s going to do, if he’s going to call the guy, ecstatic over the idea of getting an actual job. The current situation, however, was not under normal circumstances.

 

Nothing ever was when Yachi was in the picture.

 

Yuki came back into the apartment, holding not one, but two cards—this prompted another exciting conversation about a business opportunity for Ennoshita and Tadashi at this Karasuno place; Haru listened with dulled attention, hearing, trying to convince himself that he wasn’t just giving effort as a method of distraction. Of _course_ he cared about something this exciting—any means of income out of Tanji’s club was worth being elated over. Haru couldn’t wait to talk about Yuki’s new job or Chikara’s new job or even Tadashi’s new job, but…what had happened last night, with Terushima, Yachi’s older brother…it was huge. Although he didn’t want to say it, that event was more monumental than all of their new jobs combined. There was no way he could bring the topic up without starting a conversation that would last days, full of memories of little Yachi, which would lead to more melancholy feelings, which would lead to days of doing nothing but laying in bed sulking, uncontrollably depressed over their lifestyle, would never resulted in anything positive.

For one of the first times in his life, Takeharu didn’t want to join the conversation.

“Hey,” Konoha murmured, nudging the omega’s arm as the others were talking excitedly about their business cards. “How was your night?”

 _Painful. Sorrowful. Nostalgic. Depressing. Heartbreaking_.

“Not very good,” Haru whispered with a slight twitch of his lips. “Tell you later.”

 

Akinori was very concerned at Haru’s behavior, mostly because this was so unlike him to be quiet—not that he talked too much, but for as quirky as he was, it was just plain odd for him to not be babbling with the group. Konoha figured it had to be something serious, though he tried not to worry, as that scent would come off pretty fast, and it seemed as if Haru wasn’t ready to talk about this with everyone quite yet.

Once everyone was smiling, Takeharu took his leave—smiling was not something he could do right now, and he _never_ gave insincere smiles.

 

 _I need to calm down_ , Haru told himself, feeling fresh tears spring into his eyes. He stubbornly refused their exit and plopped down underneath the covers, burying himself to try and protect whatever melancholy was coming for him. _Everything is okay…I’m alive and well, Yachi doesn’t blame any of us for her death…she’s way better off in heaven, anyway—who knows what her sufferings would have been down here, had she lived on. Of course I would want her here with me, but I’ll see her again…she wouldn’t want me to waste any of this life reminiscing and injuring myself by wanting her back. Suck it up, Takeharu Futamata. You’re fine. Everything will be good…_

Someone small slipped underneath the covers alongside Haru; he sniffled once, trying to regain control of his voice as Arata slowly spooned him, wrapping his own arms around the other’s torso. He didn’t need an explanation—Tsucchi went right to Haru’s scent glands and began grazing his tiny nose back and forth, feeling the tension leave his body in a whiff. Usually Takeharu and the other omegas were good at going to each other when they were down, but sometimes Haru forgot about this playful, calming luxury because, as Ennoshita liked to tease, his brain was only wired for doing one thing at a time; if he was sad, he was going to be sad and sulk around without washing the dishes or folding the laundry. If he was happy, he wasn’t about to think about going somewhere nostalgic or watch sad TV shows in the lobby downstairs.

 

Haru hated being sad.

 

Arata let there be silence for a few minutes, which was nice, because Haru’s head was starting to hurt. His strained muscles (having been in that state since meeting Terushima) went limp in the other omega’s grip, and his eyes slowly dried the tears amongst them, instinct defeating mentality. Sometimes the Delicate Roses were comparable to a group of teenage girls at a sleepover—less naïve and less passive-aggressive, of course…come to think of it, the Roses were ten-times more tight-knit than any group of girls in the world. Every night was a sleepover, and whenever one of them was tired, the others were too. Whenever one of them was sad, the others were too. That was the kind of bond they grew from being kidnapped together all those years ago.

Haru was thankful that Yachi wasn’t part of this bond.

It seemed harsh, at first, but the more he thought about the idea, the more it became true. Despite their optimism and positive energy…the Roses’ did not have pleasant lives. They were not free to do as they wished, work as they wish, and due to their stripped paychecks, _eat_ as they wished. Yachi would be with them, yes—but she would be suffering just as they did. It was better that she had died with her innocence.

 

Because unfortunately, that was a characteristic none of the Roses possessed anymore.

 

At this thought, Haru forced himself to seek more comfort; he turned around and buried his head into Arata’s neck, hugging him back tightly while halting more sniffles by taking in Tsucchi’s citrus scent, the islands of California, as he imagined it to be, and the airy, freeness of the oranges…

“Tsucchi-chan,” Haru started quietly, talking into his throat. “Do you think there’s a perfect place out there? With perfect, nice people, and a beautiful landscape, and just…overall perfection?”

Arata gave a tiny laugh, moving down so he could look into Haru’s dark, angelic eyes.

“Do you want me to tell you that Bel Air is like that?” He asked.

“Maybe…but do you think a place like that really exists, or do we have to make it ourselves?”

 

The tan-haired boy was quiet for a second, his expression loose with thought.

 

“I think every place has the potential for that…don’t you?”

 

Haru nodded a few times, and was pleased at how his lips moved upwards effortlessly at the pleasant thought.

“Yeah. We’ll have to make our own place…maybe in America. Or maybe in Johzenji, over west…there’s lots of places we could start our perfect place.”

He and Arata looked into each other’s eyes, fondly warming to the idea.

“And we can take Shibayama, Tadashi, Ennoshita, and Konoha…”

“Don’t forget Yachi.” Tsucchi whispered. Haru closed his eyes and let out a soft sigh in agreement.

 

“I could never forget Yachi.”

 

~~~-~~~

 

Yuki’s week had been significantly better than the last.

 

His “dancing” had improved so much by Monday that he was given the day off from the scary choreographer; he spent that entire day at the shelter, feeding and petting the cats, walking the dogs, assisting with behavioral lookouts, and he even got to spend half an hour with the puppies during socialization hour! It was days like this when Shibayama wondered how he could ever consider his life to be terrible; of course, when he went home to his shared apartment in an unsafe part of Tokyo, he remembered how he was able to be so depressed about life not too long ago…but there were other reasons in play, now, that added to the little dark-haired boys’ cheerfulness.

Yuki had been staring at Yaku Morisuke’s card for three days.

When Chikara and Yamaguchi came over for breakfast and explained what had happened, Shibayama thought he was going to faint. Yaku was offering _him_ a job? A real job, with real paychecks and everything? If he hadn’t met Yaku and his cat before, he would say that was crazy. He would never believe such luck to exist; but he _had_ met Yaku and his cat Lev. As terrified as he was that night, Yaku never gave the impression that he was some sex-crazed alpha who wouldn’t be able to control his urges over some skimpy-dressed omega wandering the streets at night…he had been civil, embarrassed, even, and hilariously annoyed with his cat.

 

And…even though Shibayama couldn’t see that well through the darkness…he was pretty sure Yaku was handsome.

 

He smiled at the beautiful daydream of working at Yaku’s shop with him, getting to pet Lev every day, to have lunch breaks, to get a real paycheck that was his to keep, to spend on whatever he wanted; the end of the day was near, and he was pretty sure he would swing by this Traveling Cats agency, just to see what kind of environment he would be working in, _if_ he accepted the job.

“I wonder how old Yaku-san is,” Shibayama commented to one of the cats as he put it away for the night. “He was only a little bit taller than me, which is cool, because he’s an alpha, and usually alphas are really tall. I wonder if he wants to be taller. Do you think he wants to be taller?”

The cat meowed lightly, and Yuki smiled again.

“Hey Shibayama!” One of the other volunteers called from down the hall. “Open up an empty cage, would ya?”

“Okay!”

 

Yuki hurried to open a cat door, and when he turned back towards the door, he was shocked to see a volunteer carrying a big grey cat in his arms.

 

“ _Lev_?!” Shibayama asked in surprise.

“Huh?”

“Where did you get that cat?!” He exclaimed, running over to take the Russian Blue from the man. Lev seemed pretty happy to see him, and his green eyes glimmering with simple-minded excitement as Yuki cradled him against his chest. “Where did you find him?!”

“He was wandering the streets as I was walking home,” The man explained. “Do you know who he belongs to?”

“Yeah, he’s…a friend of mine.”

“Great! You can take him back, then!”

 

Yuki’s head shot up, and Lev flicked his tail at the mention of his owner.

 

“Well…I…I guess I could…”

“If he’s not home, just bring him back in; we’ll deal with it tomorrow. Goodnight!” The man waved, walking out of the cat room, leaving Shibayama and Lev to stare at each other blankly.

 _See Yaku?_ Yuki thought in a panic. _I mean, I planned to see him later, but not tonight! I just wanted to go past the travel agency, that’s all! I’m not prepared for this…what if I have a panic attack, or what if Lev gets hurt and it looks like I’m the one who did it?!_

“Meow!”

Lev was pawing playfully at Yuki’s collar, seemingly undeterred by the fact that he was about to be returned home to a very irritated owner. Ignorance is bliss. It wasn’t that late out, and there was even some sunlight still out, and yet…Yuki was _terrified_ of going outside. Not that he was scared of Yaku—it was actually quite the opposite; he was really looking forward to seeing the alpha. So much, in fact, that his nerves were overpowered by his excitement. Shibayama was just worried that something would go wrong, or that he misjudged Yaku’s character, or that when he got there, Yaku’s angry side would be revealed, or that the job would no longer be available.

 

Lev meowed again, purring gently into Yuki’s chest; the sound calmed his nerves immediately.

 

“Come on Lev,” He said with mild confidence, grabbing his jacket and locking the front door. “Let’s go see Yaku-san.”

 

The walk over was sure an interesting one; Lev seemed to understand where they were going and was pretty intent on not going down without a fight. He kept whining and trying to squirm his way out of Yuki’s arms; once they came within a block of Yaku’s apartment (don’t ask Shibayama how he knew where the businessman lived), Lev lowered his ears back and began to burrow himself further into Yuki’s jacket.

“Don’t worry, Lev.” Shibayama assured him, walking up the front stairs. “I’m sure he won’t be _that_ mad.”

 

The grey cat meowed pitifully, and Yuki let out a shaky breath before knocking lightly on Yaku’s front door.

 

Before his hand had made its way back to Lev, Morisuke was opening the door, his round brown eyes wide with anxious energy; they narrowed as soon as they found Lev cowering in Shibayama’s arms, but a relieved sigh left his lips.

 

“You found him,” Yaku said. “I leave the window open for five-minutes…”

 

Shibayama giggled, then blushed at how nerdy it sounded before carefully holding Lev back to his owner. Yaku gave another sigh and accepted the cat back, though he seemed reluctant to do so. Secretly, he had never been so happy so see that Shibayama was in a happy mood today; he still couldn’t get over the fact that the omega had been _crying_ when they first met—it didn’t seem like him to weep so freely like that. The thought still enraged him, and it had been over a week since the incident.

Yuki, meanwhile, couldn’t take his eyes off the cat owner that was Yaku Morisuke.

Now in daylight, he really saw his facial features for the first time, and admired the softness of his expression, even when he was obviously fed-up with Lev’s antics; his hair was a beautiful shade of light brown, his short eyebrows just a bit darker than the short fluffy locks. He was taller than Shibayama by only an inch or so, about the same build, though he looked more athletic than Yuki did…his cheeks were the perfect shape, not too round, not to slim, and man was Yuki _dying_ to see him smile—he was so entranced by Lev’s owner he didn’t even realize that Yaku himself was looking over Shibayama as well.

 

Yaku had been informed of Shibayama’s (whose first name he learned was Yuki) job at Tanji’s club, and was only relieved for a moment when they confirmed that he wasn’t one of the prostitutes in the group. Terushima had been unavailable for the past few days, but according to Bobata, he had a lot to say—they just needed to give him a little bit of grace time, because whatever he had found out had been something personal. Yaku could deal with that…but he just couldn’t get over the fact that Shibayama, sweet, animal-loving Shibayama, was a sexual toy in Tanji’s disgusting life, and above all else, a _stripper_. At first, he didn’t believe the statement, but only because of his previous encounter with the twenty-two year old; Yaku was caught between relieved and revolted.

At this very moment, however, Morisuke was nothing but starstruck—and it takes something amazing to make Yaku Morisuke starstruck.

 

Sure, he had seen Shibayama before…but not in this kind of lighting. He hadn’t noticed the pureness of his black eyes that made them look charcoal grey, or the glossiness of his parted hair, or even the rounded shape of his small nose. He hadn’t been able to take-in such a clear view of Shibayama’s body frame, which was both awkward and alluring; the narrowness of his ribs and hips, and the undefined, but noticeable muscles in his calves made his line of work pretty clear. The thing Yaku really wanted to see most was Yuki’s smile: the sneaky kid had hidden it behind his hand when he giggled, and (the noise that made Morisuke’s heart give way in his chest) he was sure, after looking at the downturned lips and looseness of his cheeks, that this was a face that actually smiled a lot.

You just had to know how to make him get there.

 

“Thanks for finding him again—I’m sure it won’t be the last time.”

“Well, I didn’t find him…I just brought him back.” Yuki shrugged. “Another volunteer brought him to the shelter, so I figured I’d save you the trouble of going all the way down there.”

“Did you just get off?” Morisuke questioned.

“Mhm.” Yuki nodded. “He didn’t interrupt anything…I don’t think he was hurt, but you might want to check his paws just to make sure there isn’t anything wedged in between his toes.”

 

Morisuke could have died from how cute the word “paws” and “toes” were coming from the dark-haired omega’s mouth.

 

“Well, he interrupted my dinner about thirty-minutes ago, so he’s still grounded when we get inside.” Yaku said, more to Lev than anyone else. “Would you like to join me? I made way more food than I could ever eat.”

Blush instinctively flew over Shibayama’s cheeks, although the request was purely innocent. He hadn’t even planned to speak to Yaku this long, and now he was being invited to _dinner_? How could his poor nerves handle such a change of plans?

“O-Oh…well, I wouldn’t want to impose…”

“Lev’s entire existence is based around imposing,” Yaku laughed, making Shibayama’s heart clench. “Your presence would be heaven compared to his.”

“Um…what—what are you having?”

“Omurice.”

 

If Yuki liked to swear, he would have done so a thousand times at that point; omurice was his absolute _favorite_. He didn’t get to have it very often, but when he could afford to, he bought all the ingredients, and no matter what anyone else was cooking, Yuki would eat his omurice. Haru often said that was what made his scent so powerful—the constant cooking of omelets, fried rice, and ketchup.

Unless the person who offering was horrifyingly horny, Yuki never said no to omurice.

 

“Okay,” Shibayama nodded rapidly, shyly keeping his eyes down. “I would like that…thank you.”

 

Elated, Yaku hurriedly stepped aside and kept the door open for his guest; Lev tried reaching out for Shibayama, but one glare from his owner made him sink down again.

Shibayama awkwardly took his tennis shoes (which Morisuke was happy to see versus the heeled boots) off and set them in the entryway as Yaku released Lev, promising him a time-out later. The interior of his apartment was cozy, pretty spacious for being in the inner-city of Tokyo; Yuki liked how the dark blue and red furniture went together, and how Lev’s bed was the only random color of the room, being a light green—he figured Yaku had let the cat pick it out himself, and bit his lip to keep from laughing over the idea of how displeased his expression probably was when Lev laid down in the only odd-colored bed in the entire store. The remainder of the home was simple, up to date on technology, accented by the greyish carpet, which was also probably put in because of Lev. Shedding would be a lot harder to see that way.

“I can—I can take your jacket.” Yaku said, interrupting Yuki’s silent tour. “Or…or you can just hang it up right behind you.”

“Oh—right!”

Shibayama struggled with his jacket over the idea of Yaku helping him out of his jacket, which resulted in Yaku, wouldn’t you know it, _helping him out of his jacket_. They were both mildly awkward with the situation, though their own embarrassment covered-up the possibility of them noticing the other’s embarrassment; once the much-too-thin jacket was securely on one of the hooks, Morisuke led Yuki into the kitchen, where Lev was already chomping down on his cat food.

 

“You can sit down wherever,” Yaku said, going back over to turn the stove on. “Do you want anything to drink? I’ve got tea, milk, water…”

“Whatever you’re having is fine.” Shibayama said politely. He hated bringing attention to himself by getting something different. “So, um…do you cook often?”

Yuki’s terrible attempt at starting conversation was most welcomed.

“Yeah; I live alone, so I have to do everything myself.” Morisuke shrugged. _Why is my voice so high?_ “Do you?”

“Do I what?”

“Cook a lot.”

“Oh,” Yuki blushed. He had gotten distracted by the severe scent of Yaku everywhere, overwhelming his senses. “Um...I…I guess I do. Just stuff from packages, though.”

 

Morisuke nodded a little, wondering if he was being too non-chalant; he didn’t want to pressure the already-nervous Yuki by looking at him as he spoke, and judging on how anxious the omega’s scent was already, looking at him would send a spike of nerves through his body, but he didn’t want to be rude (besides…Yuki was nice to look at). He kept staring down at his omurice, wondering why in the hell he didn’t prepare for this moment.

 

“I never got your full name,” Yaku forced out. “Shibayama is your family name, right?”

“Yeah; my first name’s Yuki.”

“Yuki,” He repeated under his breath. “Yuki Shibayama.”

The omega heard this mutter and would have blushed again, if he wasn’t already as red as a tomato.

“That’s a really great name,” Yaku told him, glancing over his shoulder. “Much better than Yaku Morisuke.”

Shibayama sputtered over his words, unsure how to respond to what he was pretty sure was a method of flirtation; the scent surrounding his entire being wasn’t helping matters. Luckily, Lev interrupted the moment by purring and rubbing against Yaku’s legs.

“What?!” Morisuke exclaimed lightly. “Now you want me to _pet_ you, after you just ran away?!”

 

Sensing the tone, for once in his life, Lev turned away and lazily ran himself along the stool legs of Yuki’s chair, silently begging for attention; Shibayama was eager for a distraction, and practically yanked the cat onto his lap, desperate for a different smell to help coax away the unbearably _dominating_ smell of alpha—having lived under Tanji’s reign for so long, Tanji himself being a non-scented alpha, due to his age, Yuki was not used to this overpowering smell. They were absolutely never allowed to be isolated with an alpha, with the exception of Konoha and Arata, and that rule was widely obeyed by all the omegas; to be honest, they had way more to worry about than finding a mate, although sometimes the idea was comforting to their penniless hearts. The only scent ever present in his own apartment was omega after omega after beta, so now, sitting in Yaku’s home, in his kitchen, with him, an _alpha_ , only a foot away, was making Shibayama sick. He wanted to suck in more and more of the scent, since he was so unfamiliar with it, and yet, he knew he wasn’t supposed to be getting addicted—he wasn’t supposed to be liking the homey, fresh mint, warm scent of Yaku Morisuke, the alpha whose cat was unruly and lovable at the same time. Yuki was starting to become very agitated with the stress of being so confused.

 

“How long have you volunteered at the animal shelter?”

The question snapped Yuki back to reality, and he realized, with a jolt, that he was trembling, and Yaku was sitting across from him on the island table.

“Uhhh…” He practically drooled, making the mistake of opening his mouth just as another whiff of Morisuke came rushing into his nostrils. “About five years…”

“That’d be a really fun hobby,” Yaku continued. “Getting to be with all kinds of animals all day long; I wish I had time to do something like that. Have you ever considered going into that kind of work?”

Shibayama nodded hard, feeling a little bit of the control return to him.

“Yeah…t-they’re not hiring at the moment, so I just do extra stuff around the shelter, but it would be nice to do that kind of work in the future.”

The kind smile Yaku gave him was almost enough to distract from the commanding scent of alpha. _Almost_.

“I got Lev from a different shelter north of Tokyo,” Morisuke continued. Of course he understood what kind of turmoil Shibayama was going through—he probably could have sensed it from _outside_ the house, because his alpha instincts were screaming at him for the first time in years, commanding him to take over. Yuki was so tensed-up that it was painfully obvious how hard he was trying to suppress his need to _submit_ , to open himself up _entirely_ to Yaku, even though he barely knew the guy. “The shelter was shutting down, and they were trying to get rid of the animals so they wouldn’t be forced to euthanize them. I went in and found this langy, clumsy little grey kitten with emerald green eyes…and I guess the rest is history. I would adopt another one, but Lev’s so temperamental, it’s hard to tell if he’d be pleased or irritated with another cat in the house.”

“Y-Y-Yeah,” The omega nodded dizzily. “Some cats don’t do well with other cats; there’s a lot of them at the shelter that are like that.”

“Do you have any cats?”

“No…but I get to spend all day with them, so.” Yuki didn’t want to mention that having a cat would break his imaginary bank. “If you ever figure out if Lev’s okay with it, you can come by the shelter; we have a lot available for adoption.”

 

This time, Yaku’s smile succeeded in relaxing Shibayama.

 

“Great! I’ll be sure to ask for you, since you’re such an expert in dealing with unruly cats like Lev.”

 

At that, Lev looked up from his spot on Shibayama’s lap, curious as to why they were mentioning him. Yuki gave a shaky smile and stroked his fur.

“I think you’re the expert here, for dealing with him for so long.”

“I guess you’re right,” Morisuke chuckled bashfully. “Ah—I’d better check the rice.”

Yaku got up and went over to the stove about a foot away from Yuki; the closeness was stressful for both, but Shibayama’s senses were slowly adjusting to the scent. The food scent had been unleashed into the room anyway, so that was helpful. Morisuke dished the rice into the omelets for them, and turned around to set the plate down in front of Yuki—he didn’t miss the brightened glimmer in those dark eyes when he laid the food down in front of him. That was the most open expression Yaku had seen from him yet, aside from the crying incident. In fact…the look Yuki gave him in thanks was so open, that Morisuke accidently let off his scent; it wasn’t an erotic smell by any means, but as soon as he felt those waves leaving his body, he froze, only then realizing that he was still standing right next to Shibayama.

Yuki froze quicker than Yaku did, his posture straightening out, his breath hitching in his throat; the alpha went to fix the situation immediately, even when he found himself unable to step away.

 

“I’m sorry!” Yaku apologized genuinely. “You can relax, I don’t want anything, I was just happy to see that you like omurice!”

Yuki looked up at Morisuke in shock as he continued to ramble.

“I didn’t mean for my scent to overpower you like that, I didn’t…I didn’t know that it would affect you so. I can open a window, if you want, or we can eat outside, or whatever you want!”

Shibayama, to his shock, was able to speak right away. I think it was the shock itself that made words spill out of his mouth.

“You…you apologized.” Yuki said slowly, making Yaku freeze again. “I…thank you. For apologizing, I mean, I didn’t think…I didn’t think that you… _cared_ …about stuff like that. Thank you.”

“Of course I care,” Yaku melted, speaking softer. “I didn’t want you to think I was… _you know_.”

“Yeah,” Shibayama nodded, a small smile coming to his face. “I’m…really relieved. And I’m glad we’re on the same page as far as _that_ goes.”

 

Yaku laughed in agreement, starting to take a step back from the adorable omega that was Yuki Shibayama—he was stopped, however, by an invisible pull back towards the dark-haired boy. It was like a rush of wind surrounded him, full of flavorful steam, bright swirls of spices, sauces, all kinds of foods; it didn’t spread to the entire room, but remained only around him, and when Morisuke looked down at Shibayama, locking eyes with him, he realized what was happening.

Yuki was scent marking him.

About two solid seconds later, two-seconds of pure admiration on Yuki’s part, the omega finally realized something was happening. He didn’t know the name for it right away, due to his inexperience in this category, but gasped outloud when he understood.

“I—I—I—I’m s-so sorry!” Shibayama cried, bolting out of his chair, causing Lev to mewl and jump off. “I—I wasn’t trying to—I didn’t know I was!—I’m sorry!!!”

 

Before Yaku could move, Yuki was hurrying out of the kitchen, stumbling into the entryway trying to get his trembling hands to cooperate. Morisuke could hear his rapid apologies getting shakier and shakier, and immediately set himself into action, tripping over Lev as he tried to get to Shibayama before he bolted out the front door.

“I’m—I have to go, I’m sorry,” Yuki was rambling, shoving his shoes while opening the door. “I didn’t know…I didn’t know I was…”

“Shibayama.”

Yuki stopped immediately. The alpha hadn’t demanded it, but the little bit of dominance mixed with Yaku’s soft firmness was enough to make him pause, though he wasn’t brave enough to look back right away.

“Did Ennoshita-kun give you my card?” Morisuke asked calmly.

Yuki nodded hard.

“So…do you accept my offer? For the job?”

 

Shibayama swallowed. He hadn’t stopped thinking about the job, but after this incident…

 _Is he going to let this hinder his future?_ Yaku worried.

Slowly, very very slowly, Yuki turned his body to face Morisuke.

 

“What…what would I be doing at this job?”

“We need someone to answer the phone,” Yaku explained, heart beating right out of his chest. “You would be arranging appointments for people to come in…maybe a little bit of paperwork. Nothing too demanding. We could work around your hours, whenever you want to come in…”

“Yes,” Shibayama said quietly. “A real job…”

His eyes were still turned down, but he looked up at Yaku to confirm what he had whispered.

“I…I would love to work for you!”

In a shocking turn of events, Shibayama stormed up to Yaku and bowed as low as his back would allow, his voice almost at a grateful yell now.

“Thank you, Yaku-san! I’ll come in early whenever you want me to start! And I don’t have a cell phone, but I’ll call you, and I’ll work whenever you want me to!”

 

Yuki ran back to the door and stepped out.

 

“Thank you for dinner! Have a nice night! Thanks again, Yaku-san!”

 

When the front door slammed shut, Yaku almost fainted. If Lev hadn’t been there to calm him down with his velvety fur, he probably would have fainted. Never in his entire life had he ever been so affected by an omega. It was unbelievable how giddy he was around Shibayama; he didn’t think he would ever be capable of being grumpy again, if Yuki was always around…

“I need a drink.” He said out-loud.

Lev meowed.

 

Shibayama sprinted a good two blocks, elated and so incredibly happy over his luck streak. _A real job!_ He thought excitedly. _An actual, real job, where I talk to normal people and do boring paperwork every day! I am a little sad I didn’t get to eat my omurice, but when I have money from my NEW JOB, I can eat all the omurice I want! Oh…but what if Yaku is upset that he cooked for me and I didn’t eat it? What if he fires me on the first day?! No no, he wouldn’t do that; I’ll just make it up to him by taking him to a fancy restaurant and order him some fancy omurice._

 

Shibayama bounced his way home with a wide, beaming smile on his face.

 

_Things are finally starting to look up…and it’s all thanks to Yaku._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "There's...only 24...hours in a day...." (Hint hint for future fics)  
> On a different note, I'm basically subscribed to five Oikawa-prostitute AU's that haven't updated since spring. Talk about depressing...


	6. Roses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roses reunite in death

 

Thursday night, Konoha was spending a relaxing evening working at the near-by grocery store, stocking shelves in the snack section, which only made him hungry for things he couldn’t and probably would never be able to afford. Tanji was really a little bitch about money things; Konoha brought in just as much as the performers did, and he worked four nights a week, besides—this wasn’t the kind of work he could do simply. It took three-years of “prostitution school” for he and Arata to get where they were today. Technically, they hadn’t gotten _that_ far, still working for Tanji, but still…they should have been able to keep a lot more than what Washijo took every week.

Having sex with demanding alphas for money wasn’t a lot of fun; Konoha thought they should at least be getting paid the minimum wage for every-day prostitutes, though they deserved much more for what they put their bodies through, for what they put their mind through, for all the concentration they had to do just to ensure their client was satisfied enough to where they would tell their friends about Konoha and Arata, Tokyo’s most talented omega prostitutes.

 

 _At least here, I actually have a uniform that covers my chest_ , Akinori thought with a sly smile, comfortably stacking bags of trail mix in his navy blue work shirt and black pants. _I even get to wear sneakers! How much of a lucky bastard am I?_

 

“Excuse me,” Someone in the next aisle said, heading towards Konoha. He waited for them to come hurrying in, asking which snacks were the best, which were cheapest, etc. etc. That was one of the things that kept the cool omega sane—casual conversation with normal people. Normal people who didn’t hire sex slaves for an hour, normal people with careers, a kind omega wife, friendly father-in-laws, happy kids, dogs and cats to fill whatever void they did find in their normal lives…it was comforting to Konoha, knowing these people were still out there somewhere. He liked talking, despite how people viewed his hooded, lazy dark-grey eyes that always gave the impression that he was bored with the conversation; he liked asking people questions about their lives, their likes, their dislikes, or even simple questions that became mandatory as more time went on, such as “How are you doing today?”

 _Oh, to live a normally unique life_ , Konoha thought bitterly. _Tanji can take my money. I don’t care. He can take my money and shove it right up his—_

“I was hoping I’d find you here!”

Akinori glanced up in confusion, slowly coming to terms with who was speaking to him as the well-dressed customer was walking towards the snack aisle.

 

Komi, as the tiny man introduced himself last Friday night, strolled with an overly energetic smile on his lips. Konoha still wasn’t sure if his strange fluffy hairstyle was annoying or sexy; he really wasn’t even that much shorter than himself, but Akinori just liked to silently tease him. At the last performance, Komi had been there the entire night, and spent 99% of his time talking to Konoha—and yet, at the end of the night, he had ended-up with a different alpha, one much more obnoxious and kinky than he expected Haruki to be. He actually pictured the guy as more of an innocent—not that he disliked the fact.

Konoha wished he had been with Komi last Friday night.

“I don’t take clients during my work hours,” He said, returning back to shelving. “I’ll be at the club tomorrow night.”

“Oh no!” Haruki shook his head rapidly. “I wasn’t coming for anything like that…”

“Maybe a candy bar, then; here—they’re even on sale.”

 

Konoha handed him a candy bar and began to face the other snacks absentmindedly, considering the matter over; Komi kept following him, however, taking whatever Akinori handed him without asking how much they cost. The prostitute wondered what kind of job he had where he had to wear a suit every day—even now, at six in the afternoon, he was wearing a light grey one with a white shirt underneath, the jacket thrown over his shoulder lazily. At the club, they hadn’t talked about jobs, although Konoha usually made it his point to inquire after the type of job whoever he was sleeping with held; with Komi, however…the subject had been forgotten.

“Are you stalking me?” Konoha asked finally, putting a hand on his hip. “I may be an omega, but if I were you, I wouldn’t cross me; I’m a very temperamental omega.”

For some reason, the threat made Komi smile; the Rose found himself distracted by the alpha’s high, thick eyebrows that were risen in amusement.

“I’d feel too guilty being a stalker,” He laughed. “I just came to chat a little.”

“Oh?” Konoha said, his turn to laugh. “And what would do you talk about with an off-duty omega prostitute, may I ask?”

 

Haruki’s breath caught in his throat as Akinori stepped closer, looking down at him with not a flirty expression, not a disgusted expression, but a blank, challenging expression. He had a hard time believing he was speaking to an omega right now—not that he was offended. Komi was only freaking out a little bit because being this close, he could smell Konoha’s scent, which had been present last Friday, to a short extent, just enough to reel another alpha in, but this was a free scent, untouched by liquor and dozens of other omega smells.

Konoha smelled like air freshener and those little laundry sheets you find in the sleeves of your freshly cleaned shirts; it wasn’t as toxic scented as cleaning supplies, though…it was warmer, less severe, covered by another scent of book pages, and maybe even a hint of tea leaves.

 

Simply put, it was dangerous for Komi to smell Konoha.

 

“I…I just…wanted to apologize.” Haruki forced out.

“For what?”

“For the last time we were together. I mean…I didn’t mean to cause you any grief by not accepting your— _offer_. I never meant that you were unsuitable to be lain with, and I hope I didn’t prevent you from making ends-meet by distracting you from other customers. Admittedly, I lost track of time as we spoke, and I forgot that what we were doing was meant to be a business transaction—”

When Komi took a step back and bowed, Konoha went from surprised to shocked.

“I’m sorry. I won’t take up anymore of your time, if you don’t wish to speak with me…”

 

Akinori stood there for a second, stunned over what was happening. When had anyone…when had an ALPHA, someone from a class completely above him in every way possible, apologized to him? That had to be a one in a million chance. There was no way this was real.

Haruki peeked up, waiting for a reply. He was hoping to receive a dismissal, because the omega’s scent was affecting him more and more with each passing moment.

The only thing Konoha could think to do was accept the apology.

 

“I suppose I forgive you,” He said casually, though his heartbeat proved he was anything _but_ casual. “But you’ll have to buy something else to make up for it. Gotta pay rent, you know.”

“Any suggestions?” Komi smiled.

The prostitute looked at the first title he saw and smirked, grabbing a package to investigate.

“Here—this trail mix has omega three in it.” Konoha held it out to him. “That should get you through the night, don’t you think?”

 

Haruki didn’t have time to laugh before the omega was leaning forward to whisper in his ear.

 

“Maybe if you’re nice tomorrow…I’ll let you have omega _six_.”

 

Konoha strolled out of the snack aisle with a spurt of happiness, but more bitterness than anything else.

 

_I didn’t graduate at the top of prostitute school for nothing._

 

~~~-~~~

 

By the week “anniversary” of Takeharu meeting Yachi’s older brother, Haru was so depressed that he hadn’t left the apartment for anything other than rehearsal; if that hadn’t been mandatory (mandatory meaning Tanji would hurt Haru in some way if he disobeyed), he would never have shown up. That week was spent reminiscing, mumbling the lyrics to Lana Del Rey songs, moping around, and taking five-hour naps in the lobby while watching the Travel Channel. It was quite a change in attitude for Haru, who was usually doing this and that and trying to find some form of entertainment or craft to do—the other Roses were content to let their friend keep to himself for a while, but by Friday afternoon, Konoha had decided that one week was long enough to mope. He wanted his old friend back, and since he had the day off due to suspicious cops (Akinori suspected that the little fuzzy-haired alpha he met last Friday had something to do with it), he made his way towards the lobby after picking-up a cheap bento box for them to eat together.

The lobby wasn’t exactly a safe place, but Haru could hardly think about his own safety when his thoughts were so overwhelmed by memories of _her_.

 

Other people would tell Haru to get over himself…but it’s not that simple, is it?

 

It’s not easy to just erase the memories when they’re so vivid that Haru was basically hallucinating for five days, remembering the times he slept cuddled-up to Yachi when he laid in bed, remembering the times he combed her previously long hair for her when he shampooed his own in the shower, remembering their talks in the bitter coldness of the warehouse when he and the other omegas were settled around the couch, talking about their weeks, what they were going to do tomorrow and such…Haru was trapped in his own melancholy. Lana Del Rey music made him feel comforted, but it also kept him stuck in that frame of mind, continuously lowering his mood to a dreary, nostalgic, almost _hopeless_ one, and the Roses were at a loss as to what could have possibly happened that had him in such a state. Only Konoha was brave enough to ask him, though he feared the same thing as the others:

_What if Haru cracks? What if, after all these years of being oppressed by Tanji, he’s finally just lost it? What if asking what’s wrong pushes him over the edge?_

Konoha shook his head at the thought; he hated the idea of any of his friends being pushed that far, though it was bound to happen sooner or later…that was why he hurried to their apartment complex, hoping to catch Haru before he lost himself in the wonder-filled world of foreign lands, of treasure hunts and mysteries, or even spirit realms in those ghost shows he seemed to like so much.

 

 _Don’t let me down, Haru_ , he thought, opening the front door. _Don’t let me down_.

 

Thankfully, Haru wasn’t asleep in the lobby; he even looked at Konoha as he walked in, though the stains on his sleeping shirt and the odd angles of his adorably messy hair proved that he hadn’t gotten up in a long time.

“Hungry?” Konoha asked, plopping down on the other side of the tattered couch. “I bought some cheap-ass bento.”

Haru didn’t laugh at the phrase “cheap-ass bento” like he usually would have.

“Okay.” The omega said in disinterest.

As Konoha opened the package, he observed Takeharu out of the corner of his eye; there were dark circles under his eye lids, although he had been sleeping more than anything the past week…his mouth was loose and hovering open a few inches, like he wanted to say something, but didn’t know how…that was one of Haru’s only faults—he didn’t know how to ask for help. His slow fidgeting and thoughtful frown was evidence enough that he was in need of some kind of stimulation, whether it be meaningless conversation, or scent smelling. As the pair sat back against their blankets, quietly munching on rice and carrots, Konoha decided he had better take mercy on Haru; he would do anything if it meant driving that dull expression from the omega’s face.

“What’s up with you this week?” Akinori questioned, getting Haru’s attention. “Are you in love? Is your heart broken? Or are you just disturbed after your first run-in with an alpha?”

Haru looked at Konoha, but quickly glanced away—the latter could have sworn he saw tears forming in his beautiful brown eyes. He didn’t speak right away, lulling over his words carefully; _is there any easy way to explain this? Is there any possible way I can just make Konoha-san read my mind? How do I even begin…_

 

The response Konoha got was completely unexpected.

 

“Do you…do you remember Yachi?” Haru whispered.

 

Konoha stopped in the middle of a bite and stared at Takeharu; they _never_ talked about Yachi. Between the whole group, maybe a few memories were brought up here and there, but Konoha and Haru, the ones who had found her, dug her grave together…they _never_ mentioned Yachi. The topic was too sacred, too fragile for their already unstable hearts; the moping Haru had been doing was now understood by Konoha. The mumbling, the attempted fake smiles, the pain in his eyes whenever all the omegas were together in one room…

 

Yachi. Of _course_ he was thinking about Yachi.

 

“Yeah,” Konoha nodded stiffly, turning to pick at his food. “I remember...is that what’s got you so messed-up this week?”

Haru didn’t respond because they both already knew the answer. He set down his chopsticks and curled his long legs up to his chest, the memories replaying over and over again—even after meeting Terushima, he remembered nothing about his features, with the exception of his eyes.

“That alpha I met was her brother.”

Konoha continued to stare at his food, no longer breathing; his eyes became considerably wider as he slowly glanced over at Haru, seeing how dead serious he was.

“Her…her brother…you mean the one she was always talking about?” He asked shakily.

Haru nodded, the omegas now sharing the same dose of pain.

“Yeah…the one that’s been looking for her since she was kidnapped. His name’s Yuuji Terushima, and last Friday—” Haru had to stop to swallow. “I showed him where Yachi was buried, and…and I gave him her box.”

 

Konoha dropped his chopsticks and turned to Haru, expression stern and serious.

 

“Start from the beginning.”

 

Takeharu and Konoha sat in the lobby for over an hour as Haru explained how Tanji had introduced them, and how Haru noticed the resemblance between the two siblings, and how they had gotten into his car and how Terushima had driven him home without hardly saying a word, and he even told him about the horny alpha that Yuuji had stopped from assaulting him; he didn’t understand the whole “Johzenji” thing, and although Konoha had an idea, he said nothing on the subject, content to just listen to this whirlwind of a story. When was the last time they had ever spoken about their kidnapping? Back then, they didn’t think anyone was going to rescue them…since Yachi was the only one who really had someone who cherished her existence, they all kind of put their hope into hers, hoping that if her gallant older brother came and stole her away, they would get to come as well, if only in their hearts; that’s just how kids thought. Now, for this brother to actually take form, to be real and still searching for his little sister…

It was _tragically_ incredible, and very admirable.

Konoha kept his face in his hands for a long time after Haru told him everything; the only conclusion he came to was that they needed to keep this alpha as close as possible, if only to keep their memory of Yachi alive. Surely Tanji would find out that they’ve been talking to rival gangs, that one of them now knew where his secret warehouse was…it was probably only a matter of time before the one responsible, Takeharu, was to be thrown into the grasp of Tanji’s favorite hitman. If getting this Terushima on their side would avoid that possibility, Konoha was going to take his chances.

 

“Haru,” The ashen haired omega said finally, looking up at his friend. “Normally I advise against talking to alphas, but I’m going to make an exception for this occasion: you _need_ to talk to this Yuuji guy.”

“What?!” Haru exclaimed. “Talk to Yachi’s brother?! No no, I can’t, he’ll hate me, he probably already hates me, I—”

“Why would he hate you?” Konoha reasoned. “You’re the one who _finally_ led him to his long lost sister; if anything, he’ll probably reward you for giving him such critical information, and how do you know what he’ll hate you if you’ve only spoken to the guy once?”

“But…but he was angry. I could feel it while he was driving me home.” Haru weakly defended.

“Yeah, but did he let his anger out on you?”

 

That made Haru pause and pout a little, because he knew Konoha was right.

 

“…No,” He shook his head. “He actually thanked me…but…but what if he’s still grieving, and I interrupt him? He probably doesn’t think we loved Yachi as much as he did, because we let her die, and we didn’t go to the cops about Tanji; what if he wants to kill us in revenge for that?”

Konoha cracked a lazy smile at Haru’s imagination; while he wasn’t completely off-course, it wasn’t likely that Terushima was just going to shoot up a bunch of omegas—if anyone, he was going to shoot Tanji’s sorry ass. _He’s been watching too much TV_ , Akinori thought. _I need to get him out of the house more often when he gets into moods like this._

“Haru baby,” Konoha sighed, shuffling over to take the omega’s delicate face in his hands. “In our line of work, death can come at any time; this might be a situation where the risk is higher than usual, but…it’s for _Yachi_. Our little Yachi. Anyone related to Yachi has to have at least _some_ of the same qualities that made her so amazing.” He reminded. “Don’t you think it’ll be worth it to talk to someone who knew her better than we did? …Someone who knew her _before_ she was taken and locked away?”

 

Haru felt more tears coming, but he forcibly pushed them back and released a shaky breath.

 

“Yes,” He whispered surely. “It’s definitely worth it.”

“That’s my kohai!” Konoha said, ruffling his hair up. “Now go out there and get some alpha ass!”

“Don’t say it like that!” Haru giggled. Akinori had never been so glad to hear that noise before. “Alright—I’ll do it. I’ll do it now, so I don’t psych myself out later on. Can I go like this?”

“Uhh…I guess so. It’s not like you’re actually trying to pick up some hot alpha ass or anything.”

“I might need to put on pants, though…these shorts are a little skimpy.”

“True. Although as your friend, I have to admit that they make your legs look pretty sexy.”

Haru rolled his eyes while trying to pry the wrinkles out of his baggy t-shirt; he didn’t have any shoes on, but he figured that could wait—now was not the time to be worrying about appearance. Haru wanted to see Terushima again, because that meant he could see Yachi again, although he had a suspicion the empty words he heard during their introduction were a little cockier than Yachi ever was, or ever even _thought_ about being.

 

“Alright—I’m leaving now.”

“Right now?”

“Yeah,” Haru nodded, backing up towards the door. “I don’t know how I’m going to find him, but I think he’s pretty well known, because—”

 

Haru accidently backed right into someone who was coming inside; they used their hands to stop him from trampling over them, and as he went to turn around, both omegas were shocked to see none other than Terushima himself standing in the entryway.

 

“Uh—um—T—Terushima!” Takeharu breathed, feeling the nerves in his body flinch. He stood straighter and backed away, lowering his head in apology. “I’m sorry, I didn’t see you coming in!”

“That’s alright,” Yuuji chuckled lightly. The noise sounded off, somehow, but Haru took the opportunity to really listen to Terushima’s voice—his yells last Friday night hadn’t exactly been pleasant to listen to. “I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

Haru gave a short nod and stood back up; this was the first time he was seeing Terushima in the real flesh and blood. This was Yachi’s older brother, Yuuji—today, Haru took in his appearance, noting that the Ferrari driving alpha was thin and spunky, his body strong, but lean. His waist was pretty small, but neither omegas were such a fool to think that underneath those layers his stomach was lacking muscle; the casual outfit he was wearing, a yellow racer jacket with dark, patched skinny jeans and golden tennis shoes, accented the ombre style of his hair, cropped on the sides with a darker color underneath, the top fluffy and slick at the same time. His short eyebrows were slanted, giving a mischievous vibe, going along with his playful, dangerous brown eyes. Konoha understood how Haru had seen the resemblance, however—despite his confidence, which Yachi had slim-to-none of, there was something sensitive amongst the brown that gave both omegas a really comforting feeling about the situation.

Haru was a little frightened at the sight of bloody and battered knuckles on Terushima's hands, however...

 

“So, uh…what are you up to?” Haru asked, folding his arms behind his back, forgetting that his shirt made it look like he wasn’t wearing pants. “What brings you to this trashy neighborhood?”

Like Futamata, Terushima never lied, and he wasn’t about to start now, even though being asked by Haru gave him a strange moment of hesitation.

“I came to talk to you,” He said with a hint of a smile on his lips. “I’ve been busy this week, but I wanted to just…you know. Talk about what happened last Friday. I’d like to talk in private, if you wouldn’t mind.”

“Uhh…” Haru glanced back at Konoha, who gave him a steady look. “Okay—sure!”

“Great; we can go to my car. I’m parked right out front.”

“Is it the yellow one again?” Haru asked curiously. He would love to see that car when he wasn’t so down in the dumps; despite his innocent appearance, he loved a good car chase, as long as they were out of town, and as long as it wasn’t an actual car chase…

 

Terushima gave another half-smile, but to the omegas, it looked full of pain.

 

“A different yellow one…my friend totaled the other one.”

“Oh…that’s too bad.”

“Yeah; you ready?”

Haru gave one last look at Konoha, who nodded at him to go. His eyes said that he would be keeping an eye out on the streets, just in case things went south.

“Yeah.”

 

Yuuji turned and opened the door again, leading Haru outside; as they strolled to his new car that was more of a golden colored sports car, the omega was wondering one thing:

 

_How had Terushima’s week been?_

 

~~~-~~~

 

Quite simply, Terushima’s week had been hell.

 

He hadn’t cried anymore after that first night, but the pain present in his chest grew worse and worse with each passing day. He didn’t tell anyone what happened, though Fukurodani had to call some special cleaning people to fix his apartment, re-carpet the flooring, put new mirrors in, and insert new doors and cabinets in almost every room… _Kuroo_ even called Terushima, like the good team dad he was, thinking it might be omega troubles, but Yuuji had ended the call almost as soon as answering. He didn’t want to talk to anyone—the only one who could have handled the situation was Yachi, the only person unavailable to him at the time.

And damnit…that hurt more than anything.

The rest of Johzenji had gathered plenty of information on Tanji Washijo, and though their secrets were helpful, none mattered more than Terushima’s; finally, on Thursday afternoon, Akaashi came over to visit with Yuuji, and once he vaguely revealed that he had huge news for them, the head of Fukurodani urged him to seek the one person who had given him this information. The yakuza didn’t do well when information was spread slowly, so it was urgent that this mess be all straightened out, so they could move forward with their plan against Shiratorizawa. Yuuji figured it would help them in the long run, if they developed a relationship with someone on the inside of Washijo’s small group; the only reason Terushima agreed was because he needed an omega to open Yachi’s box, which he took with him wherever he went (which was only between Bobata’s living room and guest room).

 

Terushima struggled to get dressed on Friday afternoon; he struggled even more driving, hating his new sports car, hating that the seat wasn’t fitted to him yet, hating that it was wider, clunkier than his other one, though he didn’t regret anything from that terrible, terrible night…

 

On the drive over, Yuuji wondered if Takeharu had told anyone about what happened; it would be deadly to their case if Washijo heard they were onto him so early on. They would have to scramble to defend themselves, because Tanji would surely take offense, and maybe even start a war, which would be terrible for business at this point in time. For the stripper’s sake, Terushima hoped he had kept his mouth shut.

 

Yuuji’s heart was still freshly broken.

 

How could he even _begin_ to describe his pain? Throughout the entire week, he remained completely unaware of his actions. He stayed at Bobata’s, didn’t attend their weekly meetings, didn’t go to poker night, didn’t eat, didn’t do anything but stare into oblivion, hold Yachi’s box closely to his chest, and maybe, during a good hour, watch TV. He wanted to call his parents, but he knew they would only accuse him of lying, and since he didn’t know the entire story, there was really no point in telling anyone else; when the time came, he would confess everything to Akaashi and the others, but for now…he was keeping his depression to himself.

Yachi. Terushima never stopped thinking of Yachi.

He thought of her as he was drifting into an aimless sleep; he thought of her as he gazed into his own disgusting reflection; he thought of her as Bobata was pouring him a glass of water; he thought of her whenever he touched the box, trembling over the fact that she was once _near_ the box, _holding_ the box, just like he was now. Stones and wood carry souls through time, and Yachi was no exception—but her brother still missed her. Whatever pieces he had left, whatever memories, whatever feelings…

 

Someday, they would all fade away.

 

It wasn’t clear what kind of pain he was in…it varied from hour to hour. Whenever Bobata visited, or tried to get him to eat, he was either met with a blank stare or a shake of the head. Terushima was stubborn when things weren’t going his way, often resorting to gritting his teeth or biting his lip aggressively; Kazuma was both annoyed and extremely concerned at this behavior—he was sure no one in the entire universe had ever witnessed such a personality turn from Yuuji Terushima. It was strangely solidifying for the pair of friends to go through this together…it was like…for once in their relationship, Terushima was the one who needed a place to stay, who needed silent comfort, who needed someone to be there without bugging or nagging at him. The other members of Johzenji were worried, but Bobata said it would be best if Yuuji was alone for a while; no one knew what that meant, choosing to let it go, at least for the time being.

No one wanted to face Terushima’s wrath if he became angry.

 

Deep down, Terushima didn’t think he would _ever_ be ready to talk about what happened to Yachi.

 

The pair were now walking to Yuuji’s car, Haru finally realizing that he was not suitably dressed for being in public, much less, being in the company of an _alpha_ so unknown as Terushima, but Konoha’s earlier words comforted him a little; still, he didn’t hesitate to trap his scent inside his glands, ensuring, at least for a few minutes, that Yuuji wouldn’t be given the chance to jump him once they were alone together.

“Here ya go,” Yuuji said, opening the passenger door for Haru, who was fiddling with his oversized shirt.

“Thanks!”

Yuuji wanted to smile at how enthusiastic Haru was, but found that he wasn’t really able to do so sincerely. Silently, he shut the door and went to the other side, slumping into the driver’s seat; _we’ve never formally met_ , Terushima thought to himself, glancing over at Takeharu, who was fidgeting and trying to fold his long legs under the seat, as if it would make him less bare. _Guess I should get to know him a little better if we’re going to be keeping him close…_

“Let’s call this our official introduction,” The blonde said, turning to stick his hand out to the omega. “I’m Terushima Yuuji; twenty-three years old, bachelor alpha.”

“Takeharu Futamata,” Haru smiled brightly, taking his hand. “Twenty-two, single, though I’m not really a bachelor, because I live with five other omegas and betas.”

 

To both of their surprises, Terushima _laughed_.

 

His eyes went wide in shock at himself, stunned at how easily he released the noise; maybe it was the fact that he was still holding onto Haru’s hand, which was soft and long, though childlike in the shake. He found himself looking down at the limb, raking his eyes over the thin arm bone, the perfectly toned skin, the upper portion covered by a baggy sleeve of his purple t-shirt.

Yuuji realized he was staring, but couldn’t bring himself to stop. He wanted to know what exact characteristic had made him laugh so effortlessly.

Sure, Terushima had seen Haru dancing provocatively on stage, had smelled that indescribable scent (which he could not detect now), but all of those physical traits had long been dismissed from his brain upon the reveal of Yachi’s…expiration date. Now, he started at the omega’s lower frame, noticing the long legs, the pointy knees and smooth skin; Haru’s body was narrow, same all the down, all the way up, at least with the baggy t-shirt on. His neck was thin, unmarked by a bite, free from the raunchy collar he had been wearing during the fan show Terushima had seen last Friday night—reaching the face, Yuuji’s breath stopped all-together.

 

For the first time since Yachi’s death, Terushima didn’t think of her.

 

Haru was… _cute_. Lovable, if you will. Precious was probably true, but Yuuji didn’t want to go that far; his hair was both hilarious and fitting, two pieces of dark hair hanging on his forehead. Haru’s face was soft, innocent and bright with emotion, though at the moment, he looked a little weary of Terushima’s intentions. There was, however, a hint of matching curiosity in those deep brown eyes—Yuuji wondered how he hadn’t memorized the kid’s face before. He wasn’t hard to miss, and had his scent been drifting off his skin…man. Terushima would have been in _big_ trouble.

 

Going the other way…Takeharu was studying the alpha just as much as he was studying him.

 

As much as he tried avoiding those brown-tinted eyes, he found himself going right to them, starting to memorize his facial features first. Yachi’s brother, overall, had a trouble-making expression, even more suspicious intentions added by his quirked eyebrows, the constant tilt of his lips, and even though it was less present than the second before Haru recognized Yuuji’s resemblance to his sister, the playful, confident spark in his eyes. He had a nice build, as already noted by the omega, and looked good in his casual clothing, although Haru envied the fancy suit he had been wearing last Friday. His hair could only be described as awesome, and maybe even fun to play with, in a totally non-sexual way—Haru almost giggled at the idea of someone as tough as Terushima letting Yachi or maybe even _him_ mess up his spikey locks.

_I wonder what he smells like…wait—no no. I shouldn’t be thinking about that. It wouldn’t be fair for me to smell Terushima when he can’t smell me…_

 

Realizing that Haru was starting to dart his eyes around worriedly, Mr. Playboy tried to give an explanation.

 

“Sorry…I just…didn’t get a chance to actually look at you when we first met.” Terushima explained, a distracted, but genuine smile coming to his lips.

“W-Well, you saw my show, didn’t you?” Haru laughed nervously, praying his scent wouldn’t start pouring out at the compliment. “I’m sure you saw more than you ever wanted to during that…”

“Well,” Yuuji shrugged innocently. “I didn’t _not_ want to see, though I’d prefer if the setting was a lot less…what would you call it…”

“Slutty?” Haru tried.

Terushima looked offended.

“No no no,” He waved the word off. “I would have preferred it to be more _intimate_ ; stripping is a strange way to meet someone.”

“Agreed.”

 

Yuuji smiled again, his tongue sticking out between his teeth—Haru was struck dumb at the sight of the silver stud in the middle of the flesh.

 _Jeez Louise_ , Haru thought in shock, his mouth hovering open uselessly. _If I was a tramp, I’d ask him to run that ring all over my body…though…I might ask even though I’m NOT a tramp…_

“I guess we should get down to business,” Yuuji said seriously, all humor gone from his expression. Haru nodded and sat up straighter, listening intently as Terushima got his words together. “I apologize if my behavior frightened you last week. I hope you understand that I wasn’t mad at you or anything…it was just—just a really _bad_ time for me.” He explained, though not shamefully so. “I didn’t mean to seem insincere about the box you gave me, either; that was really cool of you, and I’m sure it was difficult to give away like that, and…just know that I really appreciate you telling me the truth. I can’t tell you how comforting it is to have closure, after all this time...”

Terushima had to pause to swallow his emotions before they came boiling out.

“I hope you don’t resent me for anything I might have said; to be honest, I don’t really remember much about that night. I didn’t scare you too badly when I yelled, did I?”

“Not too badly,” Takeharu replied quietly, watching Yachi’s brother carefully. “And you don’t have to apologize for all those things…I understand. I felt really bad, too, but I—I don’t want to imagine how you felt after I told you everything.”

“Well,” Yuuji smiled bitterly. “Not _every_ thing.”

 

“…Right,” Haru nodded, looking down at his hands. “Not everything.”

 

“We’ll talk about that another time,” Terushima waved it off. “Part of the reason I came here was to invite you to Yachi’s funeral.”

“Her funeral?” Haru whispered, eyes going huge.

Unable to repeat the phrase again, Yuuji nodded.

“Yeah. It’s tonight, around seven; I’d appreciate it if you brought along her old friends or anyone else who cared about her during her…whatever you want to call it. Can you do that for me?”

“Well, yes, but…it’s tonight? For sure?”

“Yeah. Is that a problem?”

 

 _Of course not_ , Haru thought anxiously, looking away from Terushima’s expectant gaze. _I would do anything for Yachi. I would go anywhere if it meant seeing her spirit actually be lifted from this world to the next—but…but…_

 

“It’s Friday,” Takeharu whispered, praying Yuuji wouldn’t hear him. “We aren’t supposed to go anywhere but the club on Friday’s…that’s Tanji’s rule.”

The omega didn’t catch the way Terushima’s face fell and grew irritated at the same time; he had purposely avoided looking up because it would be an expression to similar to Yachi for comfort. How could Haru stand letting her down in death? He could barely stand it during their year together.

“I would love to come more than anything, I really _really_ want to…but Tanji,” Haru’s voice fell to a whisper again, now talking to himself. “Tanji would never allow me to leave early…he would be _furious_ with me…but…but it’s _Yachi_. How could I ever… _not_ _go_ …”

“I guess I understand,” Terushima replied stiffly, not that understanding at all. “As long as you _wanted_ to go, that’s all that matters.”

 

Haru looked over at that, his brown eyes wide with anxiety. Both of them knew that wasn’t true—nothing beat reality, being there in the flesh and blood, witnessing in present time…nothing beat that. But this was a one-shot opportunity; she wasn’t going to have a funeral every year. Haru would never get to see her finally rest in peace, loved, her body respectfully buried as it should be. If he didn’t go tonight, he would never get to see the end of Yachi.

It was like reading every page of a book except for the very last one.

Neither of the boys could stand it.

 

 _Maybe I can just go_ , Haru thought to himself, heart lighting up at the idea. _Maybe I can go, and then go straight to the club after. I can tell Konoha to tell them I had a quick shift at the restaurant—that’s believable. Tanji won’t like it, but as long as I don’t miss the show, I’ll be okay, right? The worst he could do is make me do a solo fan show…he could force me into prostitution, but that would only cost him more money, for the “prostitution school” in upper Tokyo…even so, Konoha and Arata survive as prostitutes. If they can do it, so can I! Sure, it isn’t ideal having to use my body as a weapon like that, and yeah, the repetitiveness of the birth control that prevents certain pheromones for omegas can eventually cause you to be unable to produce children in the future, but maybe…maybe I can do it. That wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world, and for Yachi, it’s worth any kind of punishment._

Suddenly, a gruesome image of Mika and her killer flashed across Haru’s mind.

_Mika…Mika…what if…if I go to the funeral without Tanji’s permission, what if…_

_What if they send… **Suguru**?_

 

“I’m so sorry,” Haru all but whimpered, looking over at Terushima with a heartbroken gaze. His scent was free now, filling the car with chocolate, flower petals, and severe sadness. “I’m sorry, but I won’t be able to come…I’ll visit her later, I promise I will, but I just _can’t_ make it tonight…I can’t…I can’t be late. Tanji would be _furious_ with me, and I really want to go to Yachi’s funeral, but—”

Terushima held up a hand; even though Takeharu knew nothing of the mafia or the business world, he knew that this meant he needed to stop talking. Yuuji seemed to be lulling something over while recovering from the smell inside the car, and swallowed a few times to keep his alpha instincts in check. He hadn’t expected Haru to say no to his question; deep down, he understood that these omegas were unaware of Tanji’s financial and political weakness, and thus, still afraid of him, but come on…this was _Yachi’s funeral_. They had to be stronger willed than that, right?

“If you can’t come, I guess you just won’t come, but…why are you so afraid of this Washijo bastard?” Yuuji laughed without humor. “I mean, the guy’s a total reject, and plus, he’s gotta be pushing eighty years old—why not just push him over if he tries to stop you from leaving your apartment?”

 _It’s not him we’re afraid of_ , Haru wanted to say. _It’s Tokyo’s favorite puppet._

 

He couldn’t bring himself to say that out-loud, fearing it to be taboo, so he settled for shamefully lowering his head, avoiding Terushima’s eyes at all costs, like Yachi would be behind their disappointed stare. Yuuji saw that he wasn’t going to get an answer, and looked out the tinted window, watching the cars pass for a long minute; he was hoping they would be able to bond over Yachi’s death at the funeral later on, but since that was obviously not going to happen, Terushima wasn’t sure how to continue with their relationship. He could always hit on him, but he didn’t really enjoy leading people on—if he didn’t like you, he didn’t like you—simple as that. Plus, this Haru kid seemed way too emotionally gullible to be playing romantic games with; the break of his heart might be just as tragic as Yachi’s death.

 

“Can you do me a favor?” Yuuji asked, getting an idea. He leaned over to grab something from the backseat. “I need you to open Yachi’s box for me and take out one item that I can look at.”

“You haven’t opened it yet?” Haru asked in amazement. Terushima tried not to blush over his weakness, but felt a prickle of heat meet his cheeks.

“I…no. Not yet. Anyway…can you do that for me? I just don’t want to be sitting here wondering what I should look at first as all the scents seep out of the box, you know?”

Takeharu looked to where the omega box sat between them on the armrest; when was the last time _he_ had even opened it? It had to be at least a year, although he had suffered through days terrible enough where Yachi therapy was needed more than anything. Haru just didn’t want the scents to ever go away, and thus, stopped himself from opening it so frequently.

 

Today, however, he owed Yachi that much.

 

Wordlessly, Haru carefully took the chest and set it on his bare knees; first, he had to choose which item to show Terushima. He decided in an instant, mostly because he wanted to see a specific item himself. Secondly, he had to plan his movements to be as quickly as possible—any stumbling or knocking around could end in disaster. Once those few things were settled, Haru let out a long exhale through his nostrils, and focused his energy, his inner omega on the lock of the chest.

A deep chill went through his veins, connecting with the lock of the box, alerting it to an omega’s presence.

 

Yuuji almost grinned in excitement when the box clicked open.

 

The mood became somber and nostalgic as Haru threw his hand into the chest, took something out, and shut the top immediately; he was holding a picture in his hand, and both were overcome with an old smell of ink and dusty paper. Terushima was facing Haru completely, staring intently at the object as the omega stared wide-eyed at the picture, remembering the image like it had only happened yesterday.

“Wh…What’s that?” Yuuji whispered hesitantly.

“It’s a picture,” Takeharu sighed, closing his eyes and bringing the picture up to hold at his heart. “About three months into our capture…they started files on us, and sometimes, they took pictures of us.” He reopened his eyes and looked over at Yuuji with a sad smile. “This is one of Yachi and I. …Would you…do you…do you want to see it?”

Even though Yachi’s brother’s heart was beating faster than it ever had before, he nodded, and tried to stop his fingers from trembling as he reached out to take the picture from Haru.

 

Terushima bit back a gasp when he spotted Yachi; she was sitting against a brick wall, crouched against her knees, her long hair _chopped_ up to her chin, as blonde as can be, with that same little clip she had to hold her bangs back. That nervous expression was glued to her face, but there was a bit of curiosity showing, too, which might have been because of Haru, who was pointing at the camera in questioning. It was Yachi— _his_ _Yachi_. She was beautiful. In the early months during which she was absent from her brother’s life, she became even more petite and charming than before. Short hair suited her—Terushima wondered why _he_ never thought of the idea; her spring clothes, the ones she had been wearing during her kidnapping, were tattered and dirty, maybe even a bit wider than before, due to her habit of sticking her knees underneath her shirts to keep her legs warm, a habit that had probably become necessary living in that warehouse.

Takeharu stared at the image for a good two-minutes before he felt tears welling in his eyes, forcing him to look to Terushima instead; Johzenji’s leader did not take even a split second to blink, to rest his eyes, to look over at Haru…he was completely entranced by this long lost picture of his little sister. The playfulness was erased from his expression, replaced by focus and love, _so_ much love, that it almost made Haru’s tears fall out; he couldn’t imagine how loved Yachi would feel if Terushima had rescued her before her passing, how happy they would both be, how happy their lives would be, together…and, in reality, how happy they would be, reunited at her funeral after all these melancholy years.

 

_A funeral that I can’t go to…_

 

“Her hair,” Yuuji forced out, swallowing violently. “They made her cut it?”

Haru nodded.

“Why?”

“Why did they do any of this?” The omega said before he could stop himself, wounding both he and Terushima. “I mean—I didn’t mean to—I didn’t mean to talk back, I just—”

“You’re right.” Yachi’s brother said firmly, not taking his eyes from the picture. “Why did they think…all of this was necessary…”

 

Haru gulped, because he had a terrifying suspicion that Terushima knew who “they” were.

 

“I have to go,” Haru said, forcing Yuuji to look away from the picture. He was trying to figure out a way to unlock the door, but there were so many buttons that he was having difficulty finding the right one. “I’m sorry I can’t come tonight. Really, it hurts me that I can’t come, but—”

“Here.”

Takeharu didn’t want to turn around, but did anyway, because an alpha had spoken, and he had to obey. Slowly, he turned his head to the left, and looked down to where Yachi’s brother was holding the picture in his direction.

“Keep this.” Terushima said.

“No no no, it’s yours, Terushima-san, it belongs to you now, s—”

“You’ll have more use of it than I will,” The alpha insisted. “I’ll waste my entire life away looking at that thing if I keep it. Just do me a favor and keep it safe, alright? And for future reference, don’t call me Terushima-san,” He smiled. “It reminds me too much of my father.”

The dark-haired omega looked from Yuuji down to the old picture, wondering if this was a trick. His lack of experience with alphas definitely put him at a disadvantage in social situations, but then again, that was Tanji’s goal; Haru just hoped this wouldn’t be the occasion where he would have to be taught a lesson. If someone played games with him like that while Yachi was in the picture…life would become living hell.

With gentle fingertips, Haru accepted the image from Terushima, and held it close to his chest again.

“Thank you,” He whispered sincerely, glancing over at the blonde. “And I’m really sorry I can’t come tonight. I’ll make it up to you and Yachi somehow. If…if you ever…well…if you need anything, I can’t guarantee I can get it for you, but I can sure give you an outsider’s useless opinion, if you want!”

 

Terushima’s laugh was sounding less and less forced with each attempt.

 

“I’ll keep that in mind…I’ll be in contact with you soon, so don’t panic if I show up at your door again.” Yuuji told him, making Haru silently confused. “I was hoping to talk to you after the funeral tonight, but I guess we’ll just have to get in contact a different way.”

“I don’t have a cell phone,” The omega confessed, blushing a little. As if Tanji would allow them something so personal, something that could easily expose all of their secrets. “But my apartment has a phone, so you can just…ask for my number, I guess.” _What? Is this what I act like around all alphas?_ “I mean…you can look up my number, if you really need it. Or just show up whenever, except Friday nights.”

“Noted,” Yuuji nodded. “Well…thanks for…everything. If you change your mind about the funeral, it starts at seven; stay safe tonight.”

 

Unable to fathom the reality of him not being able to go to Yachi’s funeral, Haru only nodded, and spared one last glance at Terushima before sliding out of the new yellow Ferrari and sprinting up to his apartment.

 

~~~-~~~

 

While Haru was off chilling with a mafia informant, Konoha had made his way up to the omega’s apartments, where Yamaguchi, Chikara, and Tsucchi were all trying to help Shibayama find an outfit suitable for his job interview with Yaku; even though Yuki said he already got the job, he assumed he would have to go through a day of training or something that required an outfit—preferably, not a skimpy dress or slutty tights or pencil skirts that barely reached passed Yaku’s butt. Yaku himself had been wearing pajamas almost every time they had stumbled upon each other, but Yuki knew he had fancy suits and thousand dollar shoes that shined brighter than Shibayama’s entire existence.

So, the problem was this: Yuki only had one dress shirt, and it was ugly as hell.

Chikara had plenty of nice blouses and jackets for Shibayama to wear, but none of the colors suited him; Tadashi had one with a nice navy blue color, but it was wrinkled and huge on his frame. They didn’t bother checking Arata’s side of the closest, since all he owned was pajamas and tight elastic dresses. Haru was much too tall, and Konoha was just Konoha. Their predicament was solved when Yuki crawled to the very back of his closet and discovered a shirt that a previous tenant had hidden behind the other shelves—remarkably, it fit perfectly, and was plain red, the best color for Shibayama’s skin tone.

 

The boys scwabbled happily as Yuki came out to model his outfit in the kitchen.

 

“You’re _sure_ this guy was offering you a job and not asking you out on a date?” Konoha teased, fluffing Yuki’s hair up as he blushed.

“Yes, I’m sure. After I accidently scent marked him, I’m sure I won’t be getting asked out anytime soon. That was mortifying!”

“Who cares!” Arata giggled. “You have a job, Yuki! A real life job, with people and telephones and paperwork! You’re living the dream!”

Yuki laughed with Tsucchi as he grabbed his arms and began dancing around the kitchen with him, making Yamaguchi guilt Ennoshita into dancing as well, until they were all in a circle, holding hands, skipping around the table. Their celebrations continued until the front door opened, and in came Haru.

“Haru-chan!” Shibayama cried in joy. “Come dance with us!”

“We’ll dance the day away, and then when night comes, we’ll dance some more!” Konoha added.

 

The boys all came to a halt when they saw that there were two tears falling down Takeharu’s cheeks. He was holding something in his hand, and hid it behind his knees as he sank down right where he was and hugged himself with his arms.

 

“Haru,” Arata hushed, immediately going over to his side as the other Roses followed suit, surrounding him with comforting scents that didn’t help. “Are you okay?”

“Did that bastard hurt you?” Konoha asked in a barely-controlled hiss.

Haru shook his head, and kept shaking his head for a solid minute.

“What’s the matter?” Shibayama questioned fearfully, his previous accomplishment all but forgotten.

The boys waited a few seconds as Haru sniffled softly, leaning away from his knees ever-so-slightly to explain his sorrow.

“T-Terushima…invited us…to Yachi’s funeral.” He confessed in a fragile whimper. “B-But we can’t go, b-because we have a show, a-and Tanji won’t let us leave the apartment on show day!”

“ _What_?” Ennoshita repeated in shock.

“Did…did you say Yachi?” Tadashi asked, expression going blank. Haru held out the old picture as a response, and Konoha took it right away, eyes moving rapidly over the image of little Haru and Yachi, curled up against the brick wall of their alleyway playground at the old warehouse. The sight both enraged and softened his battered heart, causing him to slump his back in melancholy. The smaller beta of the group kept his embrace on Haru, not bothering to look at the picture when he saw Yachi in his dreams almost every single night…seeing her back in that state would just be pure torture.

 

For a few minutes, the Roses sat there, stunned, unsure what to do next. They kept looking between the picture and Haru, who, while he was not sobbing uncontrollably, was definitely not stable; seeing Haru cry was worse than seeing Konoha disenchanted. There was just something about his usual brightness that made those tears all the more unbearable, like seeing a kitten dosed in cold rain water. Their comforting scents were not working this time, which worried them more than anything—thankfully, the solution to their problems was fairly easy to come up with. It wasn’t going to be pleasant, it was probably going to cause a scene, but their option was the only option.

An omega’s loyalty is not something that should be handled lightly; many alphas and betas greatly underestimated their bond between nature—it was one of the greatest misconceptions of their culture.

 

“We’ll go to the funeral, Haru-chan.” Yamaguchi finally said, making Takeharu look up from his knees. “Even if we’re hours late, we’ll still go.”

“Yeah,” Arata agreed rapidly. “We can ditch the last half-hour of social time; Konoha and I already have clients lined-up anyway. We don’t need more time to sweet talk anyone.”

“I’ll bring some jackets so we can leave right away.” Ennoshita added.

“I can bribe the music guy so he can remix the soundtrack to make the performance go faster.” Konoha said with a grin. “One kiss, and he’ll be mine for all time.”

Haru laughed, despite his tears, and nodded firmly.

 

They were going to Yachi’s funeral—they were going to pay their respects to their fallen friend and warrior, even if it meant having the dog of all dogs, the murderer of all murderers, Suguru Daisho, unleashed upon them.

 

~~~-~~~

 

Not wanting to hire an outside company for the job, Terushima had decided to pay a few of Karasuno’s men to sneakily go into the alleyway of Tanji’s warehouse and dig Yachi’s body up. They were careful and unseen, managing to secure her corpse without being noticed; they took her body to the coroner’s office, and then to the yakuza morgue, where her skeleton was preserved, placed inside a $90K casket with pink lining, and driven to the Tokyo cemetery, where Terushima had picked a beautiful spot for her right underneath a cherry blossom tree. It seemed fitting for her gentle personality. He made sure no one came in contact with her coffin until the workers hooked it above the hole in the ground, and spiritually made sure nothing evil tried to take her body into a different world. The priest he hired was an older man from his hometown Johzenji, who had been devastated when Yachi was taken—he was perfect for the job, and was more than happy to do it on such short notice. He would keep his mouth shut too, least the information get around to the Terushima family, who had convinced themselves that Yachi wasn’t dead, that she hadn’t been kidnapped over ten years ago…

Yuuji made sure to mail a $2,000 check to the old priest the day before the funeral.

The ceremony began at exactly seven, and even though Terushima had failed to give an identity for the deceased, Johzenji showed up per his request, dressed in their very best, somber, full of hugs and appreciation. Bobata even brought a case of a hundred black and light pink roses; the black meant sorrow, farewell, while the light pink meant sympathy and gentleness. Yuuji had never openly admitted his appreciation for Bobata before, but today, his emotions running higher than any of his friends had ever seen before, he took him aside and thanked him deeply, even giving him a big, long hug after the fact.

 

And this was only the beginning.

 

While anything would have shocked Terushima at this moment in his life, due to his splattered mental state, the appearance of both Karasuno, Fukurodani, and even Nekoma rocked him to his very core. He hadn’t been trying to make the situation so quiet that they never heard of its happening, but then again, he hadn’t ever really expected them to find out about it; their shared melancholy and respect for his loss astounded him, and if Yuuji hadn’t already been on the verge of a breakdown, he was now. How he kept himself together was a mystery to even him.

“Very sorry about your loss, Yuuji-kun.” Bokuto had said seriously. “If you need anything, give me a call, okay buddy?”

Terushima gave him a hearty handshake and hug for that sentence. While he was confidently aware that he and the rest of Johzenji were important aspects of Fukurodani, he hadn’t expected them to all show up like they did—then again, the yakuza was formed out of respect and loyalty…he should have known they would come running to him in his time of grieving.

Seeing Kuroo wasn’t the slightest bit awkward, not even when he arrived holding his omega’s hand; Terushima would have been a jealous person, had he been in love with Kuroo, but things never went that far between the pair. He was glad Kenma and he were both there, because it softened his hardened heart a little bit, seeing such a strong bond between the mated couple; Kenma kept his head down most of the time, but when the preacher began speaking, his attention was at the ready. That was when Terushima noticed the other couples amongst the crowd, including Bokuto and Akaashi, and Sarukui and Yukie...they were all together. They were happy with each other, with their relationship; they held hands and scented each other and kissed each other, even in public—it got Terushima thinking.

 

_I wonder how I’m going to spend my Friday nights, now._

 

Yuuji’s Friday nights were open; he could party, gamble at Date Tech, dance, go car shopping, buy new suits, watch TV more often…anything he wanted to fill his time with, he could now do, without the worry that it would overlap with his private time. Maybe that fact was what injured his heart the most. Although many would argue that someone as fun, energetic, and as manipulatively charming as Yuuji was not capable of feeling emotion other than greed, this was not true; _everyone_ feels _every_ type of emotion, whether they show it or not. Terushima was not usually a nostalgic or depressed person, but that didn’t mean he was incapable of sensitivity—it physically pained him that he would no longer have anything to do on his Friday nights. He didn’t want to begin to think how he was going to spend those newly open hours each week.

 

The search for Yachi Terushima was over.

 

The yakuza threw black and red roses over her coffin as it was lowered down into the ground; overall, she had been above ground for roughly sixteen hours before being placed right back below. Hopefully, in her state of death, she still understood the difference. Yuuji himself pushed the dirt onto her coffin, filling up the hole while emptying the one in his soul; he didn’t call his parents, didn’t tell them where their daughter was, didn’t invite them to her new resting place, despite its beauty, still undeserving of her presence…

 

Terushima did nothing.

 

And if that wasn’t concerning…what was?

 

~~~-~~~

 

Later that sorrowful night, after drinking aimlessly at Fukurodani with the rest of their affiliations, Yuuji went off on his own with a bottle of vodka in one hand, a black rose in the other. As he was walking past a strip of stores, the same song that had come on his radio station the other day was playing from a speaker; it was a different verse, but he recognized the woman’s voice, and stopped to listen for a while.

 

_Don’t be afraid of me_

_Don’t be ashamed_

_Walk in the way of my soft resurrection_

_Idol of roses, iconic soul_

_I know your name_

_Lead me to war with your brilliant direction_

_Roses, Bel Air, take me there…_

 

By the time the music began to sound fuzzy, Terushima had drank half the bottle.

 

 _Where should I go…I should go to Yachi_ , he thought blankly, dragging himself across the sidewalk, although he wanted to just lay down and sleep for the rest of his days. _Yachi’s tree…she has a pretty tree now. But she’s underground, so she won’t be able to talk to me—maybe I should dig her up. But she has a box…I have a box at home, but this is a bigger box, one I can’t make Haru open…maybe I’ll just lay with her. She always loved when I did that. She was too shy to ask, though…but I was thoughtful…I always laid with her when she was cold, or just because I wanted to._

_Some things won’t ever change._

Yuuji dragged himself a bit quicker, and made it to the cemetery in no time. He looked up, eyes immediately clearing, expecting to see Yachi’s rock sitting there, waiting for him to visit, even though only a few hours had passed. Her brother missed her already.

 

When Terushima stumbled around the corner of the cemetery, he thought he was hallucinating when he saw none other than Haru standing in front of Yachi’s headstone.

 

_TERUSHIMA YACHI_

_September 4 th, 2004—?_

_Beloved little sister, daughter, compassionate flower_

 

“Haru?” Yuuji said, sobering almost immediately. Haru jumped at the sound of his voice, though the corner of his lips quirked upwards when he realized who was speaking. “I thought you couldn’t skip.”

“Well, I didn’t skip, exactly…I’m just a good five hours late.”

Terushima suddenly felt very disrespectful, being so buzzed in front of both his little sister and a harmless, cute omega who had kindly led him to finding his long-lost sister in the first place. He shook his head and hid the nearing empty bottle behind a bush, promising the nature-loving Yachi to pick it up later; Haru continued to look down at the grave as Yuuji came forward—he hadn’t planned to start a conversation, but all of his plans were halted when someone else came hurrying through the graveyard from the far left.

“I think it’s over here.” A voice said.

“Okay…”

Out came Konoha and Arata, their clothes a mess, their hair even worse. They looked from Haru to Terushima to Yachi, slowing their strides to stop at her side.

Another noise came from their right, and Haru turned his head to motion Ennoshita and Yamaguchi forward; a few seconds after, Shibayama came hustling in, his coat having tree branches stuck to the fabric from his running through the bushes. The seven of them stood there for a long second, just living in the moment with each other—then, to Yuuji’s amazement, Takeharu pulled out a perfect red rose from his long coat.

 

“Sorry, Yachi-chan…I had to flirt to get this rose for you, and I know it doesn’t have the correct meaning, but…I remember how you always loved flowers, so I hope you’re not too upset with me.” Haru said sweetly. The other watched as he gently laid the rose down on the top of the flower pile. “It’s really nice to see you again.”

 

Haru stood back up, and didn’t respond when Terushima stepped closer, so that their arms were brushing together. The Delicate Roses watched over their friend for a long time; they watched with bitterness, love, appreciation, and small smiles on their lips. Mika Yamaka, another fallen Rose, was nearby, watching as well; her face was free of blood in the afterlife, and she smiled as she saw all of her friends together, pleased at their unbreakable bond.

 

Even in death, the rose petals remained as one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We'll get to see more of the real Terushima and Haru in the chapter's to come...I have to work a lot this week, but I'll be trying to write a chapter ahead so I'll have one ready for you all. Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoy xxx Kudos are appreciated, but only if you mean it!


	7. Begin Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ship names created by ME:  
> Harushima  
> Shibayaku  
> Borata  
> Konomi (that was easy)  
> Chiyama (catchy!)

Yachi Terushima’s funeral was over; so now, what was her older brother to do?

 

While still grieving over his recent loss, Terushima wondered that every hour of every day. His life had been dedicated to one goal, to find his little sister and give her a happy, promising life; since that goal was crushed, what was he to do? What was his new inspiration? The first thing he wanted to do was murder Tanji and whoever else was responsible for kidnapping Yachi and ruining her life, and his, inavertedly, but that would have to come in good time, after he explained the situation to Fukurodani and got their permission to burn the warehouse down and slaughter anyone who knew about Shiratorizawa’s terrible habit of kidnapping innocent omegas to use in their sick games…

For now, that was his new goal.

 

“So, let me get this straight.” Bobata clarified as they walked through Tokyo together. “Tanji kidnapped a bunch of young omegas, kept them in a warehouse, then unleashed them into his world of prostitution and stripping, just to further his reputation as one of the strongest yakuzas in Tokyo?”

“Not just to further his reputation,” Yuuji said through gritted teeth. “It’s all a fucking game to him. He doesn’t care about sex himself, but he takes advantage of the fact that other people _do_ care about it. He knows omegas are becoming more and more disrespected in the world, and he’s exploiting this by showing everyone that their specialty and talent stretches to nothing further than sexuality.”

Kazuma shook his head in disgust, frowning out at the bustling city around them.

“Bastard…I always knew I didn’t like the guy, but this is just…”

“Indescribable.” Terushima spat. “I’m contemplating skipping the stage of confirmation from Fukurodani and just going right for his heart myself.”

 

The two alphas’ silent rage was pushing away anyone who walked past them, but they paid no mind, caught inside their own hatred for Shiratorizawa.

 

“He has to pay for Yachi,” Terushima said suddenly. “Not just her, but those other omegas and betas he has trapped under his thumb. I couldn’t save her, but there’s still time for them; Yaku’s got one close to him now, you know that Arata guy, Komi has a weird relationship with Konoha, who I think knows the most out of the group, and I plan on talking to Takeharu soon. He’s not going to get away with this…I’ll make sure of it, even if I end up dead.” He turned his fierce gaze towards Bobata, who was staring at him with both an awed grin and a frightened gaze. “Will you help me?”

“Naturally…but just out of curiosity, what would you say if I had refused?”

Yuuji grinned.

“You would never refuse.”

“True,” Bobata laughed, nudging his shoulder. “Guess that’s just caus’ you’re such an adorable alpha.”

 

Yuuji tried to push Kazuma off as he ruffled his hair up, and they almost began one of their famous wrestling matches right there in the middle of the street.

 

“I just did my hair!” Terushima cried. “Stop it! We’re gunna be late, you cocky bastard!”

Bobata cackled again and let his friend push out of the headlock, rapidly trying to fix his hair, lest some cute omega should see him in such an unfashionable state. Just as the pair began to walk normally again, they noticed an altercation taking place right in front of the _Body Electric_ club; Bobata recognized Arata immediately, mostly because he always searched for the beta whenever he went for his daily walks, and Terushima recognized Konoha Akinori from the file Akaashi had shown them last week. They were arguing with none other than Tanji Washijo, whose eyebrows were more furrowed than usual; upon recognizing the old geezer, Yuuji’s body went stiff with evil intentions.

 _There he is_ , Terushima thought darkly. _The man who ruined my life, who destroyed Yachi…whose games are sicker than any of us ever suspected. This is a perfect scene—I could shoot him right now, right in the middle of the street, where there are no cameras, no witnesses willing to testify, because they weren’t able to react quick enough to my—_

“Come on,” Bobata hurried, tugging his friend along before his imagination could get the better of him. “It’s Arata. Let’s make something up.”

 

Terushima followed, knowing exactly what Kazuma was implying. They hurried across the busy streets, looking like maniacs until they came within the same sidewalk as the bickering pair; Tanji was sternly telling Konoha something while Arata looked frightened and concerned. Yuuji heard a short bit of their conversation as he and Bobata slowed their paces to leisurely strolls, turning their coolness up a level and readying their smirks.

 

“Tanji-sama, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Konoha claimed. “I never blew any alpha off yesterday night; the person must have misunderstood the situation.”

“We take what customers come to us, Tanji-sama,” Arata dared to add, though with a shaky voice and avoidance of eye contact. “We don’t enter into threesomes unless we have your permission first…”

Johzenji took this pause to intervene.

“Konoha!” Terushima called, waving at the group. Akinori glanced over in confusion, staring at the pair walking towards them. “Fancy seeing you here! You wouldn’t happen to be on-duty right now, would you?”

“…I’m on if you’re off.” Konoha replied with a loose smile, slowly understanding the meaning behind his words.

“Haha! I didn’t know your omegas had such good senses of humor, Tanji-san.” Yuuji grinned at the old eagle bastard. “Konoha and I were engaged with… _other_ activities that night, but it’s refreshing to have some casual conversation too.”

 

Washijo looked confused, at first, then his worthless pride took over as he recognized the greatness of the compliment Terushima had given, almost gagging as he did so, though he covered it with a crude smile.

 

“Ah, yes…I trust you’ll have an excellent time with Konoha here, if you choose to employ him in the near future.” He said, the anger disappearing from his mind. “And what about you…?”

“Bobata Kazuma.”

“Bobata—did you have a nice time as well? Or did you choose to spend your money on the show, rather than the after-party?”

Arata looked in worry at Kazuma; he understood what they were trying to do, but his poor nerves were not made for such on-the-spot lies—he was worried that he would ruin the lie with his inability to stay cool during intense situations. Sometimes he wonders how he ever made it as a prostitute.

Bobata sensed the anxiety in Arata’s dark eyes, and tried to play things cool, though what he had to do next would only make the small beta even more concerned for his own well being.

Kazuma reached out and smiled, a cruel, wanting smile, bringing a long finger to brush over Arata’s cheek, stopping right at the corner of his lips, which were so kissable at the moment the alpha considered out-playing his role of the horny alpha, just to sneak a taste of those pink little lips.

 

“Well…I’ve been keeping my eyes on this one for a while, now.” Bobata half-lied. “I like to observe my omegas before taking a chance on them, but Arata’s done nothing but impress me, so…I think I’ll be _employing_ him very soon.”

 

As terrified as Tsucchi was, Tanji was possibly prouder than he had ever been. He didn’t think people appreciated an omega’s sweetness like he did; he made a mental note to befriend Johzenji further, thus, befriending his competitor, Fukurodani. He smiled to himself in accomplishment, thrilled over the fact that he was proven right once again:

Nothing brought-on the destruction of mankind faster than desire.

If only he knew how to follow his own advice…

 

“Well, don’t let us detain you from your work!” Terushima said, grasping back control of the situation. He grazed a teasing finger up Konoha’s bare arm and smiled charmingly. “I’ll see you soon…okay?”

“I look forward to it, Terushima-san.” He whispered seductively. Although Yuuji was unaffected by this, he had to admit that Akinori had game.

 _I wonder why his scent doesn’t affect me like Takeharu’s?_ Terushima thought curiously.

“Have a nice day, Tanji-san.” Bobata said, giving a kiss-ass bow to the old hairy bastard. “By the way, we should really think about getting together sometime; us yakuza boys have to stick together, you know?”

“Excellent idea,” Washijo nodded. “Tell your employer I would love to have a drink sometime.”

Although the indirect insult triggered Terushima’s anger, he gave another charming smile and nodded in confirmation, shoving his hands in his pockets to keep from jumping the disgrace of a yakuza leader.

“See you soon, Arata babe.” Kazuma said, winking at the small beta.

“Yes…s-see you soon.”

 

Johzenji’s two leaders turned around, not letting their true emotions show until they were a good three blocks away from Konoha and the others.

 

“Oh my gosh!” Bobata exclaimed, hands going up to his hair. “Arata’s never going to talk to me again!!! I know I scared him, but I thought I did a good job of letting him silently know that I wasn’t serious!!! TERUSHIMA— _WHAT AM I GOING TO DO_?!!!”

“Firstly, calm the hell down.” Yuuji said, prying his friend’s hands off his shoulders. “You can explain it to him another time. Secondly…when did you fall so deeply in love with this kid? Did I really miss that much while I was in la la land?”

Bobata scowled because Terushima had hit the head of the nail without even meaning to; during that isolated week in which the head of Johzenji spent moping around, losing weight, singing melancholy songs…Kazuma had been wandering around Tokyo, non-creepily trying to find Arata in his normal state, outside of the strip club. It had been difficult, considering how short of the leash the omegas were tied to, but he had managed to find him drinking at a coffee shop with Konoha, where he drank not coffee, but some kind of organic tea thing, which Bobata thought about for three days straight. He wasn’t sure why he was so obsessed with the beta—maybe it was his cute hair. Or maybe it was just him overall; there were plenty of other attractive characteristics of his that Bobata clung to, besides the fact that he was a very amiable beta.

“Don’t ask me that question ever again.”

“Pfff! I was just joking, Bo!” Terushima cried, looking at his friend in shock. “You’re seriously in love with him?! Is this because of the scarf thing?”

“Probably…he looks really cute in a scarf…”

Yuuji rolled his eyes, but he was actually really pleased that Bobata was having such luck in his romantic life; he had been a bachelor for far too long. They _all_ had been bachelors for much too long. Of course, it wasn’t lucky that he managed to fall for a beta who belonged to Tanji Washijo, but other than that…Terushima was glad. Maybe that happiness was because he and Yachi shared a strange fascination for the joy of people they knew.

 

“That just confirms what you thought, huh?” Bobata said, breaking Terushima out of his daydream. “Did you see that proud look Tanji got on his face when you said how great of a time you and Konoha had? …We’d better tell Akaashi about this when we get there. He’ll want to know just how deep this guys’ love for exploiting omega’s sexuality goes.”

“So do I,” Yuuji replied in a growl. A flash of Takeharu went through his memory, when he was dancing on stage to that awful club song; now looking back, Yuuji was sure he could see the pain in Haru’s eyes. “Let’s hurry, before I blow another fuse.”

 

Bobata nodded eagerly, and the pair went forward once again, their energy slowly transforming to one of revenge.

 

Akaashi had received a call from Terushima an hour earlier, asking to see him today; he was meeting with several business clients, but had a solid hour open for Yuuji’s sufferings to be revealed. Since the funeral, Fukurodani had been eagerly awaiting for Terushima’s information on Tanji Washijo—while Bokuto had been able to get little pieces of information from Tendo, and while Johzenji’s information on how the after-party was ran at Body Electric proved useful, Terushima’s inside information was supposedly the most critical. Akaashi was anxious to hear the news—prostitution had just gotten one of Date Tech’s casinos in trouble, and the police not on payroll had been everywhere; they needed to get things like this sorted out, before they ruined everything, brought bad blood into the picture, starting with Tanji Washijo.

 

If he became out of control and popularized the idea of omega prostitution, starting by kidnapping young children…the yakuzas were in a world of trouble.

The police wouldn’t be the only ones involved; the community would be outraged, upstaging the yakuza foundation as they knew it. That was why Akaashi wanted all the information he could on this bastard, so they could put an end before chaos even had time to begin. When Terushima and Bobata arrived, he ushered them to sit in front of his desk, where he gave them his full attention; Yuuji, he noticed, looked several levels better than when he had last seen him at the funeral. He had gained a bit of his weight back, and the bags under his eyes weren’t as prominent as they had been before. The slick hairstyle had returned full force, lacking the knots and reckless disarray strands; this was a good sign, though Akaashi could still feel a strong scent of displeasure and bitterness from the young Johzenji leader.

“So,” Keiji began casually. “What did you want to talk about?”

“You don’t have to spare my feelings, Akaashi-kun.” Terushima joked, though he appreciated the nonchalant greeting from Fukurodani’s head. Why was he so bad at feelings all of a sudden? Was it his playful nature, or his anger that was preventing him from being sincere? “I have information on Tanji Washijo that will blow you out of the water.”

“By all means, tell me.”

Yuuji paused for a moment, trying to find a way to filter his answer.

“Tanji is responsible for the omega kidnappings so many years ago,” He explained. “Those omegas and betas he took from various parts of Japan are now being used as a means of income for him, through the Body Electric club, where they perform and strip for all of Tokyo to see…and afterwards, the prostitutes go out and get a little more…I don’t know the whole story, but I know where his warehouse is.”

“How?” Akaashi asked quickly.

“One of the omegas took me there; that’s where I—where I found my…relative’s body.” Terushima licked his cracked lips, knowing that the entire organization pretty much knew who Yachi was in relation to him. “He kept the omegas and betas there.”

“For how long?”

“Don’t know yet. My source is still pretty weary of me, but I’m working on it.”

 

Akaashi sat silent for a minute, soaking in this information. Tanji Washijo was the one responsible for the social uproar so many years ago, when twenty young omegas and betas, all around the ages of eleven/twelve, were taken from their hometowns and never heard from again. To think that the secret had been right under their noses for _so long_ …it stung something fierce. Akaashi felt guilty about not addressing this problem years earlier, or at least bringing it up to their previous leaders; how much agony could they have prevented? How many countless men had those poor omega prostitutes slept with, _knotted_ with? How severe of pregnancy prevention medicines did they take? How many health issues did all of them have, from such poor living conditions, from so little income? There was no way Tanji didn’t take at least half of their earned paychecks every week…how had they even survived this long?

 

“How was their health?” Akaashi asked.

“Borderline unhealthy, though not noticeable enough where their performing bodies would be affected.” Bobata answered with a scowl. “For how much information we have, we really don’t have a lot.”

“They’re all terrified of Tanji, for some stupid reason.” Terushima scoffed. “Unless he has someone powerful we don’t know about working for him, I don’t see why they don’t just come to us, or even go to the police.”

“I suppose they’re worried about what would happen if they were to expose Tanji,” Keiji reasoned, leaning back in his chair thoughtfully. “Maybe they’re under the impression that he might be powerful enough to prevent them from leaving…or maybe you’re right. Maybe he’s holding something over them. Maybe he’s using their love for each other against one another.”

“Sounds like him,” Yuuji said in a voice so quiet Akaashi had to look at him. “They’re all really good friends, I’ve heard; Takeharu told me they all live together in this shitty little apartment complex not that far from the club. Yaku said some of them have part time jobs elsewhere.”

Akaashi hummed thoughtfully; Terushima wondered if Takeharu had a part time job somewhere. He hoped it wasn’t at a bar as a bartender or something…for some reason, the idea of Haru getting hit on every hour of every night made him uneasy, and a little pissed off.

 

“We’ll have to get more information—from the inside.” Keiji said with a nod. “Would you and Johzenji be willing to do this for us, and for the sake of Tanji’s victims?”

 

A sharp stabbing pain went through Terushima’s chest at the word “victims.” _That’s right_ , he thought. _Yachi isn’t the only victim in this crime. The “Delicate Roses,” as they’re called on the street, are still suffering under his dictatorship. They need our help. I’m sure there’s been a few that have tried to rebel, and have paid the price…but we can show them. We can show them that Tanji isn’t to be feared._

_We’re the ones who they should fear. (But in a good way.)_

 

“Consider it done.”

 

~~~-~~~

 

Yuki Shibayama showed up at Yaku Morisuke’s travel agency in his remotely unwrinkled dress shirt, black slacks that were a few inches too long, and a nervous, but charming smile on his face. While he absolutely loved his volunteer work at the animal shelter, Shibayama was thrilled to have a paying job, one where he would earn his paycheck through non-deprecating ways (hopefully), one where he would get to keep the money he made (hopefully), and, although he would never admit it…one where he would get to work with the handsome, friendly alpha who was Yaku Morisuke.

Oh—and his cat Lev.

Yuki was understandably anxious as he opened the door to the Traveling Cats agency, and was slightly relieved to find that the shop was empty. This proved false, however, when Yaku came hustling in through the backroom, looking just as frazzled as Shibayama felt. His expression lit up when he spotted the young omega, and his smile was almost blinding with excitement. Yuki’s heart skipped a few beats at the sight, and he was pretty sure his breath stopped momentarily at the sight of someone outside of his group of friends being excited to see him.

 

“Shibayama!” Morisuke greeted. “You came!”

“Yup!”

“Are you nervous?”

“A little bit,” Yuki softly nodded. “But excited, too.”

“Good; I wasn’t sure where we should start, so I guess I’ll just show you around.” Yaku said, motioning to the small shop. “To our left is the maps, organized in various different styles; to our right is the information on all locations, airlines, etc. etc. You’ll be sitting right here, most of the time, behind the desk answering phonecalls—Fukunaga will be the main person who handles the clients, because he knows the most about traveling, next to me.”

“Fukunaga?” Shibayama questioned.

“Oh yeah; Shohei Fukunaga is the other travel agent here, aside from me. He works Monday through Wednesday afternoon, so you’ll get to know each other pretty well. He’s a quiet guy, though, so you won’t have to worry about dealing with an unbearable personality like I have to at my other job.”

 

As much as Yuki wanted to know about Yaku’s “other job,” he was more eager to pay attention to what he was supposed to be doing at the agency. He didn’t want to make any mistakes along the way; when was the last time he had ever wanted something so badly? Shibayama couldn’t remember.

“Is…is Fukunaga an…alpha?” Yuki asked fearfully.

“Oh no,” Yaku shook his head, giving the omega some relief. “He’s a beta; you won’t have to worry about anything like that anyway. I would never allow someone who ignored their conscious in favor of their instincts to work with me. Especially if y—”

Nope. Better not say that.

“Anyway!” Morisuke exclaimed. “I work from Wednesday to Friday, so you don’t have to worry about messing up; any mistake can be undone. It’s not that difficult of a job anyway, and I don’t doubt your socialization skills.”

“You might want to doubt them just a little bit.” Shibayama said with a light, modest smile.

Yaku smiled back, though he was too distracted to notice.

“You’ll be fine,” He assured the omega. “Let me show you to your desk.”

 

Yaku explained how to operate the phone, what to say when someone called, how to look for available flights on the computer, etc. etc. Shibayama gave him all his attention, never letting his mind rest for a second, even though the information given wasn’t that difficult to comprehend. Morisuke roughly understood that Yuki had never finished school, having been giving vital information from Akaashi an hour earlier; he was _thrilled_ to see Shibayama grasp this opportunity so fully. He wondered what it was like, going from stripping to a typical, casual job like answering phones for a travel agency—was it happily overwhelming? Was it good for his focusing skills? Did it injure his mentality, knowing that there are much better ways to make money than by showcasing your body like a toy?

Despite his silent curiosity, Yaku didn’t ask a single one. He was content to let Shibayama’s dark eyes glow in wonder, to help him learn, to grow as a person; he didn’t want to know how good Yuki was at his other job. He was going to make him succeed at this one, even if it killed him.

 

_When did I get so attached?_

 

“Oh—I almost forgot,” Morisuke said, snatching an envelope off the corner of the desk. “Here’s your first paycheck, in advance. Well, I guess it’s not a check, it’s cash, but you know what I mean.”

Yuki stared at the paper in Yaku’s hand, eyes nearly bulging out of his head. The travel agent was startled by his expression, and found himself gaping wordlessly, unable to ask or explain.

“…My…my p- _paycheck_?” Shibayama repeated in disbelief. “In _advance_?”

“Y…yeah.” Yaku nodded, forgetting what the omega was asking because he was now looking him straight in the eyes. “Um…I always pay the first in advance, so…it’s all yours. You can take it when you leave today.”

 

(Morisuke didn’t mention that he specifically gave Shibayama cash, mostly because he knew the poverty-stricken omega probably didn’t have a bank account, and only partly because gangsters never went through the bank for anything; checks were a big no-no in the yakuza world.)

 

The dark-haired omega’s eyes widened to an impossible size, full of the deepest, warmest gratitude Yaku had ever seen from anyone in his entire life. Not even when Nekoma saved the life of a young girl did the mother’s eyes reach Shibayama’s level of appreciation. A wonderful combination of scents, Yaku’s awe, and Yuki’s warming thankfulness, flooded the room, creating an intoxicating smell of both alpha and omega; had Fukunaga been there to witness it, he would have been under the impression that Morisuke had known Shibayama for _years_.

“O-Oh,” Yuki whispered, unblinking. He looked like he was about to bawl. “Thank you.”

Yaku understood that those two short words had monumental meaning.

“You’re welcome.” He said quietly.

 

_What is this…what is this…_

 

The person who ended-up interrupting the moment was none other than the prankster Takeharu himself.

 

The bell on the front door jingled loudly, making both Shibayama and Yaku jump; Haru smiled brightly at them, looking at his friend excitedly, though he was confused at the expression on his face.

“Am I interrupting training time?” Haru asked playfully, walking over to the front desk.

“It’s been one hour.” Yuki reasoned.

“Well, don’t mind me, I’ll just be aimlessly looking at the American maps, with no expert to guide me in my travels.”

Yaku released a breathy laugh, still stuck in a daze over the amount of Yuki that was overwhelming his mind.

“I’ll let you work with your first customer, then, Shibayama-kun.”

“Oh…okay.”

 

Yaku hurried into his office in the backroom, where Lev was waiting for someone to pet him; Morisuke only did so in hopes that it would distract him from his increasing urge to grab Shibayama and nuzzle his face against his expose neck.

 

“So!” Haru said to his friend, tugging him over to the maps. “How’s your first day going?!”

“I already got my paycheck.” Yuki replied dully, staring aimlessly at the papers.

“Really?! So cool! How much did you get??”

“I don’t know, I haven’t looked.”

“Well, Yuki-chan—dazzle me with your skills. I want to know where Bel Air is, and exactly how far it is from Tokyo.”

 

Shibayama shook his head, though it didn’t help with the blurriness of his vision, and grabbed a nearby map of California; he and Haru leaned over the paper together, scanning the cities for Bel Air.

“Found it!” Takeharu smiled, pointing the town out.

“That’s a long ways from Japan.”

“I know that, Shibayama, but I wanna know exactly how far!”

“5,472 miles.”

“Wow…you weren’t kidding.”

 

Yuki smiled a little at that, but Haru could tell his mind was on a completely different planet. He glanced over his shoulder, then leaned closer to whisper into his friend’s ear.

 

“I bet the money in that envelope is more than typical receptionists make.”

“Why do you say that?” Shibayama asked.

“ _Obviously_ because you two are crushing on each other so hard,” Haru said, leaning on his friend encouragingly. “I know you’re still caught up in that smell I caught a whiff of when I came in…I don’t think I’ve ever heard of something like that before, much less, with _you_ being involved.”

Yuki’s expression went from starstruck to terrified.

“What do you mean?! Did I smell desperate or something?!”

“No no no! I just mean—”

 

The door opened again, and this time, it was _Haru’s_ turn to gape momentarily.

 

Terushima had come strolling in, a smile coming to his face as soon as he spotted the omega he was looking for. Takeharu noted that this was probably Yuuji’s real smile, the playful, confident smirk that made his eyes slant with mischief. Both omegas were struck dumb at the sight just as a recollected Yaku came walking back into the room.

 

“Terushima—what brings you here?” Morisuke asked, noting that the gangster was dressed in a nice suit and had his diamond earrings in. He only ever wore diamonds when he was trying to impress someone, whether it be an omega, or a crime leader. “Considering a long vacation?”

“Every day’s a vacation with me, Yaku-san!” Terushima replied happily. Haru hadn’t stopped thinking about the other side of the alpha, the one whose glazed eyes looked at Haru with appreciation as they stood over Yachi’s grave… “I just came to find Takeharu—Yamaguchi said he went here, so I came to grace everyone with my presence.”

“That’s great, Terushima-kun, but I’m in the middle of training Shibayama here.”

“No worries! I was just about to ask Haru-chan if he wanted to go on a walk with me.”

Everyone looked at Haru expectantly, and the phone rang, alerting Yuki to his job, and Yaku to his mentoring. Yuuji looked over at the omega, waiting for an answer.

“Okay.” Haru nodded shortly, shoving his hands into his pockets. “That sounds nice.”

“Great!”

 

Terushima opened the door for Takeharu, who was surprised that someone who seemed as wild and carefree as him would do something courteous, which might have been judgmental, but the Delicate Roses had run into people like that all too many times before. The pair went walking down Nekoma’s street in silence, and Haru noticed that a lot of the passer-byers seemed to recognize Terushima. To distract from the looks they were getting, he started wondering why Terushima had wanted to see him so soon.

 _It’s only been a few days since Yachi’s funeral_ , Haru thought silently, waiting for the other to start a conversation. _He seems chirpy today, though…I wonder if he’s still in denial, or if his personality just allows him to bounce back really fast. That doesn’t sound right; judging on how distraught he was, and how battered his hands still are…he’s probably just putting on a good show. Boy, do I know what that’s about._

“It’s kind of a bummer to meet someone under such heavy circumstances,” Haru said. “But I’m glad to see you feeling a little bit better.”

“Fraction of an inch,” Terushima replied, a bit surprised at how accurate Takeharu was in his statement. “Believe it or not, Haru-kun, there’s a difference between recovering and moping.”

“I believe it,” Futamata laughed lightly. “Have you forgotten what my night job is?”

 _Absolutely not!_ Yuuji silently shouted.

“Actually…that’s one of the reasons I came to talk to you. But before we get to that, let’s talk casual: how’s your day going so far?”

 

Haru smiled at the change of subject, and decided to entertain Terushima, if only to distract from how underdressed he was in a jacket and old jeans compared to the mobster’s fancy suit.

 

“Pretty good…Yuki started his job today, I don’t have to go to _my_ job today, so I’m in a good mood.”

“You mean your night job, or a different job?”

“Different. The club’s only open on Friday nights.”

_Noted._

“Ahh, right…so you have to work two jobs?” Terushima asked. “Sounds a little heavy for someone so young.”

Haru shrugged, not wanting to take the conversation to a sad turn.

“It’s not so bad; whatever pays the rent, I guess!”

 

Terushima laughed lightly at that, and it was genuine—usually it took something ridiculously adventurous or stupid to make Terushima laugh, but Haru seemed to trigger the response without effort. He glanced over and saw Haru watching him, that tiny, cute smile on his lips; the idea of the omega watching his crinkled eyes as he laughed, _adoring_ the crinkles by his eyes as he laughed never occurred to him.

“I’m curious to know more about you, Haru. Is it okay if I call you that, or is it too weird?”

“It’s okay.” Yuuji’s second act of mannerisms reminded him of something. “Oh—I forgot to thank you for that one night…you know, when you stopped that alpha from…whatever it was he was going to do.” Haru trembled instinctively. “I can’t tell you how grateful I am that you were there.”

“What kind of friend would I be if I let some asshole sexually assault you like that?” Terushima said, burning hatred rising in his words. “If something like that ever happens again, or if you feel even the _slightest_ bit agitated or concerned for your well being, don’t hesitate to call, understand?”

The firmness of Yuuji’s voice made Haru nod immediately; his heart was shocked at how protective the alpha sounded over him. Had the scene last week really affected him that heavily? Was he just connecting Haru with how he used to protect Yachi? He had no idea. But he managed to squeeze out a response as they rounded a corner.

 

“I don’t have your number, Terushima-kun.”

 

That comment slowly turned Yuuji’s mood around, but he couldn’t help but be confused at how his rage had spiraled at the mention of some other alpha touching Haru in such a manner…

 

“Damn. I feel stupid now,” Terushima grinned a bit sheepishly. Him? Sheepish? “Before we part ways today, make sure you remind me. I don’t want us to lose contact, and I don’t want us to be those people who always say they’re gunna hang out, but never end up doing it.”

“You don’t want to lose contact because you want more information on Yachi-chan?” Haru asked, looking over at Yuuji curiously.

The tone of the question, while not malicious, sensed of disappointment; Terushima stopped walking to face him directly, hoping he hadn’t injured his feelings, and wondering how the hell he had figured out the big part of why Terushima was befriending him.

“I mean, I really don’t mind telling you more about her!” Haru corrected, accidently getting close to Yuuji, where the gangster noticed a few dark moles on the omega’s face. “I have a lot of stories about Yachi and I, if you’d like to hear them…and…and I can tell you about our year together, in the warehouse, and if you want, I can explain the whole ‘Delicate Roses’ thing to you, too! I really don’t mind—it would be my honor to talk with Yachi’s older brother. She always spoke of you with such fondness, it would be terrible of me to not see for myself, if she was really telling the truth, you know?”

 

_Am I hallucinating, or…is determined Haru incredibly sexy?_

 

“…Stories?” Terushima repeated stupidly. “You mean…”

“Anything, really.” Takeharu shrugged, his breath fanning onto Yuuji’s nose, due to his one-inch height advantage. “Things we did, conversations we had…whatever you want to hear. I could tell you one every day, probably; we knew each other well, so if you would be interested—”

“Yes,” Yuuji interrupted. “Yes, I…I would…really like that. I’d like that very much, Haru.”

 

The omega froze, then a slow, absolutely _beautiful_ smile crept to his lips.

 

“Oh,” He breathed happily. “Well…great; I’d be glad to meet with you whenever you want, a few times a week, once a day, whenever…just…give me a call.”

Yuuji could hardly function as Haru began to slowly back away from him, nervously giddy over their new arrangement. It was like a date every week! Having never been asked on a date himself, this was like a brand new world for the young omega; he had never felt such a rush of thrilling emotion before, one that didn’t involve melancholy. This…this feeling was pure ecstasy.

“I’ll see you later, then, Terushima-kun!” Haru said.

As he began to turn, hoping to run towards even more happy feelings, Yuuji reached out and lightly put a hand on the omega’s arm, right over the vein in his arm, dangerously close to his hand. Haru turned back, and their eyes met solidly—Yuuji could feel the way his heartbeat was pounding with excitement, with joy, with… _something_ so profound Terushima was shocked to his very core.

 

In no point in his life, not even during his short time with Yachi, had he ever felt something like this.

 

“Whatever you need, Haru…” Terushima said slowly, the omega hanging on his every syllable. “I can get for you. Remember that…okay?”

 

As if Takeharu could ever forget such a promise. Even though he didn’t understand the seriousness of the promise, even though he didn’t realize how far the promise could go, he _felt_ Terushima’s nervousness. He felt the _alpha_ inside him, not overbearing, but showing its strength, just to prove how much he meant the words.

It was too much, and yet, Haru somehow realized that he had not even reached the clearing yet.

“Bye!” Haru cried happily, running the opposite direction. “Call me!”

 

Terushima could do nothing but watch the boy run down the sidewalk, tripping over his feet every so often, until his figure vanished behind a strip of buildings. He must have stood there, as still as a statue, for a good five-minutes; thank goodness he was in Nekoma territory, where no paparazzi or informants were hiding. Wordlessly, Yuuji took his phone out, dialing without looking at the screen; Bobata answered, and the rest of Johzenji were talking in the background.

“Yuuji! What’s up?”

The blonde let a short breath release from his mouth, and did what was best for everyone:

Organized Johzenji.

“This is a direct order,” He said seriously. “Spread out in Tokyo, find out everything about everyone involved in the omega disappearances, everyone involved in Shiratorizawa, everyone who used to be involved with them in the past, and search the murder records for omegas whose identities were hidden on purpose. Report back to me as soon as you’ve collected as much as you possibly can. Understood?”

The other line was dead silent for a moment.

“Understood, Terushima-san.”

“I need a favor right this instant.”

“Name it.”

“Get the phone number of the apartment Tanji’s ‘Delicate Roses’ are staying in. Text it to me.”

“You got it.”

 

Yuuji dropped his hand and ended the call, standing there in a daze, left staring longingly in the place he had last seen Takeharu running.

 

 _Could it be true?_ He wondered. _Could it be true, that Terushima Yuuji, unofficial head of Johzenji special forces…has found an omega?_

 

~~~-~~~

 

Late that night, Konoha was walking home in the cold, having just finished with an appointment ten-minutes earlier. He was only mildly irritated today, if nothing else bothered him on his walk home; the chances of that happening was slim to none. The cold weather was already making him annoyed, and once another alpha smelled the scent of sex on him, he was pretty much a goner.

It was on nights like these that things could either become better, or worse than ever before.

 _When I walk around the corner, I’ll stop to look for cars, and as I glance across the street, my eyes will lock on someone I have never seen before. They’re new to town, maybe, here for business, but they’re considering a move, so they’re taking their time walking around Tokyo at night_ , Konoha imagined, smiling softly to himself. _He’s taller than me, and we’re the only two people on the streets, now. I stare across, having nothing but the slow stoplights to offer me light for his face; I see his eyes wander, but can’t tell what color they are._

_I notice that they stop right on me, and suddenly…everything just makes sen—_

 

“Excuse me, sir, but do you have a license to be standing here?”

 

Akinori turned lazily, surprised to hear the voice of Komi echo in the streets, interrupting his romantic daydream. He was dressed down, for once, his leather gloves keeping his little fingers warm, much to the prostitute’s amusement and envy. Komi came forward with a geeky smile, stopping right next to the omega; the imaginary savior disappeared from the other side of the street, and reality took over once again.

“I may be a prostitute, but harassment is still a crime.” Konoha said coolly.

“So is prostitution.” Komi said evenly.

Konoha smiled, and the short Fukurodani member watched in awe, but didn’t comment. They stood in silence for a moment, watching the dark streets, the flickering of the dim streetlamps blocks away—Konoha honestly forgot he was with someone until Haruki began talking again; he tended to do that on nights like this.

“What would you do if I really was a cop?” Komi asked curiously.

“Mmm…flirt with you. Maybe if I was tired I’d let you arrest me…and if you saw me in handcuffs, you’d probably be so horny you’d either let me go scotch free or you’d fuck me against your car.” Konoha said casually. “If you were that cop, which would you do?”

 

The ashen haired omega laughed lightly when he saw the disturbed, contemplating expression on the poor alpha’s face.

 

“That’s a trick question, isn’t it?” Komi asked in embarrassment.

“Oh no, I never trick.” Konoha teased, leaning his head closer to the alpha, just within reach of his alluring scent. “I’m all treat.”

At that, Haruki actually chuckled, turning away to free himself of the danger of being seduced by this mysterious omega. The only way to clear his senses was by asking about the blonde’s job.

“How was your night?” Komi inquired, looking over Konoha’s body to make sure he wasn’t injured or bloody. “Nothing too rough?”

“Do you know _any_ thing about omega prostitution?” Akinori laughed humorlessly, not backing down from his straight stance. “The people who hire us, even though they must know we’re on some kind of birth control, fuck us like they’re putting their own puppies into our guts. Surely you’re not a virgin…you know how intense things can get.” He paused, trying to read Komi’s expression. “You don’t have to feel sorry for me…it’s not so bad, being adored like that, treated, if only for a moment, like I’m worth something more than just a sex toy. In fact, I think I prefer the people who think like that—are _you_ one of those alphas, Haruki Komi?”

 

Konoha was lying. He was only Delicate Rose of the group officially signed-up for the Knotting Freebee list—the idea of getting pregnant was _beyond_ terrifying to him. It was unthinkable. What in the hell would he actually do if someone took Tanji up on that offer? What if someone decided to use him, just to get their flesh and blood, their heir, their child? What on earth would he do…if he was taken away from his friends, the only friends he’s ever had in his entire life? He couldn’t even remember how to make friends. What the fuck would he do? Have the kid, force himself to die in childbirth? Who would he talk to if he lived? Surely they wouldn’t keep him around…

Safe to say, someone picking him to carry their child would be Konoha’s worst nightmare.

 

And Komi knew that.

 

“No.” He said firmly. “I’m not that kind of alpha. Sorry to disappoint you.”

 

Konoha turned away with a bitter smile, sighing dramatically as he leaned against the broken lamppost; Haruki didn’t know that he was doing so because his body had suddenly become severely aching with pain from the hour before. He didn’t say anything, didn’t retort, didn’t comment how he was glad Komi wasn’t like that, at least not in a perverted way…all alphas loved the idea of their omega having their pups, because that’s just how they think. The silence wasn’t silence at all, because the irritated tension between the two hung in the air. Haruki wasn’t mad at Konoha…he really did understand how tiring his line of work could be, but he was just…a little saddened. But not angry. Komi wasn’t sure if he could be angry at Konoha, unless he lost his hope.

“You know…” Komi started slowly. “I have a colleague named Bokuto, and he used to know a boy named Konoha. He said they went to school together a long, long time ago, and then, he never saw him again.” The omega began to take a few steps onto the quiet street, listening intently. “I like it when destiny works itself out like this…don’t you?”

 

Akinori closed his eyes in remembrance, then gave a short huff and a smile.

 

“I’ll be waiting.” He said lowly. “Goodnight, Komi-kun.”

 

As Konoha walked away, aware that Komi was still watching over him as he made his way home, a strange thought came to him.

 

_Huh…it’s funny how as soon as my imaginary dream man disappears…Komi appears in real life._

 

~~~-~~~

 

As Haru waited in his apartment complex, dressed and ready to go, their “community phone” began to ring loudly; the sound made the omega’s heart drop, because at exactly 11:15, there was only one person who it could be: Tanji. He liked to call them and make sure they were all in bed, at home, without any alphas. The others were home, but Yuki was happily exhausted from his first day at work, sleeping soundly in he and Haru’s bed with Arata, who was drooling and hanging off the end of the mattress, not even having the energy to shower, and Konoha was in the middle of a shower, which left Takeharu to be the only victim left for Tanji to terrorize.

If I don’t answer, I might miss Terushima’s call, Haru thought quickly, staring at the phone hooked to the wall. He said he would have to call late, because he had some business to attend to…but if I do answer…I still might miss his call, and Tanji might scare me into not meeting with Terushima.

The phone began the final set of rings.

Do it...don’t do it…do it…no way…but you must…no I don’t…well…maybe I should…but what about Yuuji…

 

The phone stopped ringing, and Haru released a shaky breath.

 

Tanji never called twice, so a minute later, when Takeharu was still recovering from his betrayal, bent over on his knees, he just about jumped from his skin when the phone began ringing again. This time, he hurried over and ripped the phone out of the holder.

“Hello?!”

“Hey, you’re still up?” Yuuji laughed on the other end. His usually teasing tone sounded a hell of a lot sexier on the phone; the idea scared Haru, but also made him close to drooling. “Would you mind talking in the car again? I don’t think our…topic is suitable for a bar scene.”

“Okay, but you have to promise to let me drive it sometime.”

Haru was joking, of course—he had never driven a car in his entire life.

“Ha! You’ve got yourself a deal. I’m just around the corner; meet you in the lobby?”

“Okay!”

 

Terushima hung up, and Haru practically slammed the phone down in his hurry to get downstairs. A part of him wasn’t so sure why he was thrilled to be going with Yuuji—they were going to talk about Yachi’s life, memories of her, and that was pretty damn painful. Even a short story had the potential to end with them in tears, because this was _Yachi_ : and Yachi was no longer part of this world.

 _But Terushima’s so cool!_ Haru reasoned with himself, running down the stairs at an unsafe pace. Shibayama would urge him to slow down. _He wants to know more about his little sister. He wants to know so he can keep her alive, in his heart; that’s so sweet! I want to help as much as I can. This is one thing I can help with, and I want to do it for him. If I can’t bring her back…I’ll give back to him._

Wildly turning the corner, Takeharu was a little embarrassed to see Yuuji waiting there coolly, leaning against the doorframe. He spotted Haru breathing hard and gave a sly smile, though it wasn’t as malicious as the omega expected. He was glad for the lack of mortification on his part, because he didn’t think he could be with someone who was always trying to embarrass him.

 

“Hey,” Haru said, strolling over. “Ready to have your mind blown?”

Terushima laughed again, a high “hahaha!” that made Haru smile.

“You’re sure full of energy today,” He commented, motioning towards the door. “Come on—my bedtime’s in fifteen-minutes.”

“Hehehe!”

 

Haru really hadn’t meant to laugh like that, but it seemed that Yuuji didn’t mind, because he had a lazy smile on his lips as he opened the door for the dark-haired omega. He also opened the door to his new Ferrari, and made sure the air was warm enough for Haru before they got down to business.

“So…what uh…what story do you want to tell me tonight?” Yuuji asked hesitantly. Half of him was expecting a sob story, and if that happened, he wasn’t mentally prepared to cry in front of someone else again.

“Well…I decided to start things off with a little humor.”

Terushima raised a curious eyebrow and leaned a little closer.

“Humor? You got Yachi to loosen up that much?”

“It was her own actions that got her to laugh,” Haru giggled. “She swallowed a fly.”

“She… _swallowed_ a _fly_?”

“Yes!”

 

Terushima’s eyes, so similar to Yachi’s shined with a bright gleam of excitement—that look enough to push Haru forward.

 

For the next fifteen-minutes, the omega explained how he, Arata and Yachi had been chilling in the alleyway one afternoon, right before winter began, and an old fly was buzzing around their little station in the corner. While Yachi was explaining how much she disliked and feared flies, her movement attracted the fly, _so_ much, in fact, that it flew straight into her open mouth as she spoke. Haru had died laughing, and that was the first time he heard Yachi herself laugh loud enough for others to hear. It had been one of the better days at the warehouse, which prompted a new conversation topic.

“So how long were you at the warehouse?” Terushima asked.

“A year…Tanji left us there to evaluate our skills.” Haru shrugged. “I guess he separated us into certain groups according to our twelve-year-old personalities or something.”

“Tanji?” The word burned Yuuji’s tongue as he repeated what he had suspected all along. “He kept you there? For an entire year?”

Haru nodded a few times. He sensed the conversation taking a bad turn, but Terushima remained silent for a few minutes, and then let the subject drop completely.

“Well, I suppose I’ve kept you long enough.” He said, opening his car door. “I’ll walk you back up, before your roommates come after me.”

“Maybe just Konoha; he’s the only one who might be able to put up a fight. He gets feisty, and feisty makes a good fighter.”

 

Terushima cackled in agreement, and, true to his word, led Haru through the apartment, where they encountered a group of drunk betas and one alpha that concerned Yuuji severely, all the way up to his room. There was silence on this floor, he noted, probably due to the fact that Tadashi and Chikara lived across the hall, and were probably sound asleep by now. Within an hour of organizing Johzenji, he had all the information he could ever need about Tanji’s omegas. He knew their hometowns, their parents, their origins, their addresses, their phone numbers, what floor they lived on…practically everything but their personalities. It came in handy, and Terushima made sure Haru had his number before they parted ways.

 

“Thanks for walking me up here,” Haru said with a light blush, but an appreciative, energetic gaze. They were standing pretty close in the narrow hallway, their chests only a good five inches away. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“It’s the very least I can do for what you’re giving me, Haru.” Yuuji said sincerely. “Thanks for telling me that fly story; you have no idea how comforting it is to hear that she was able to laugh, after everything that happened…”

Takeharu let Terushima trail off, understanding what he meant. Sometimes, laughter was difficult to find, and even harder to create—since Haru had made Yuuji laugh several times throughout the hour, he considered himself to be a pretty amazing person.

The pair stood there for a quiet second, reflecting on their words; Yuuji really wanted to hug Haru, maybe give him a sniff or a nuzzle, but strangely enough, his instincts said… _no_.

 

“We’ll do this again sometime…right?” Haru asked softly, his dark eyes widening in the fear that Terushima would reject him.

“Of course! I plan on hearing all your memories of Yachi…and who knows? Maybe someday, I’ll tell you some of the memories I have of her. Sound like a deal?”

Takeharu stared at the alpha, elated, managing to keep his emotions at check by bowing abruptly to the other boy. If he looked at him anymore, he was going to get too curious about those damn piercings.

“Thank you for allowing me to—”

Before he could finish, or, even begin, Haru was nudged upwards by Terushima’s warm hands. Those almond eyes were peering over at him intently, a ghost of a tiny smile on his lips.

 

“I’m the one who should be thanking _you_ , Haru.”

 

Switching roles, Yuuji stepped back and bowed to the omega.

 

“I don’t know how to say this exactly, but…without you, I wouldn’t have found out what happened to Yachi. And that information is worth more than you will ever know. So…thank _you_ , Takeharu Futamata.”

He stood back up, this time with a smile closer to a grin.

“Goodnight. I wish you the best dreams imaginable—you deserve all of them.”

 

Saying that, Terushima gave another quick bow, and turned, strolling away down the empty hall, leaving Haru to collapse in giddy, disbelieving laughter once he was sure the alpha was out of sight—but even so, he had heard the amazed huffs from the omega, and that only made him smile more.

They had a long way to go. Tanji was now the confirmed suspect. He was going to pay, and he was going to pay big, and not in the form of money. For now, however, Terushima calmed himself with a nicer, purer thought.

 

_Looks like I found something to do on Friday nights._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> huge ass mouse: *sneaks under my door*  
> me: *reading romantic gay smut*  
> huge ass mouse: *quickly turns around, escapes*  
> (True story)


	8. The Hitman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The hitman of Shiratorizawa is revealed...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Here's a chapter I've been looking forward to since the very beginning...while I know the hitman's personality is not mafia material (as none of theirs is), I have provided softer explanations that help with his image, though he truly is, Tokyo's best hitman.  
> (More background to come...hint hint...future oneshot..)

Johzenji met up after a few restless days of coffee, secrets, ass kissing (almost literally, on Rintaro’s part, who found himself trapped between two kinky alphas who used to be acquainted with Shiratorizawa), 24-hour days and scheming. They discovered lots of information about Tanji and his organization, so easily, in fact, that Terushima kicked himself for not enlisting their help earlier. He abused and tortured himself with the idea that maybe, had he put his worthless pride aside and asked Bobata to help him from the very start, so many years ago…

_No. I can’t change the past, no matter how much I want to._

Terushima was waiting for his crew to show up, tensely sitting in a large recliner in the middle of the lavish living room. Fukurodani insisted they have an official location, where they could meet up, have a place to crash, hold meetings, etc. etc; little did Akaashi know that this house was nothing more than a bragging right to Johzenji, who were about as organized as a group of rabid Tasmanian devils in the middle of a scorching hot desert. The house was not used for meetings so much as it was for giving tours to amiable omegas Rintaro was chasing after, or punk alphas Bobata wanted to spite; the house was tall and pale yellow, with two gargoyles guarding the front stone steps leading to the front door, and three others on the edge of the balcony above, the largest one serving as a guardian, an observer of all wrong deeds below. As Johzenji shuffled in and out of the narrow home, Terushima always looked up at the gargoyle, and wondered if its memory was everlasting—he wondered if it remembered the time Yuuji had gotten wasted and stumbled towards the home, convinced that Yachi was coming to him, causing him to wait and begin speaking to the stone like it could hear him. He said he would run to his sister, embrace her, and not even the great gargoyle himself could stop him.

 

The gargoyle stared, saying nothing, but Terushima was convinced that it had given him a silent answer.

 

Noises came from the front lawn, and Yuuji straightened up, tapping his foot anxiously as Johzenji came hurrying inside. Physically, they looked exhausted, beat, void of any surviving energy or interest in the situation—spiritually, however, Terushima could tell that his crew were electric with excitement. The special forces never liked to be bored; it was both their greatest flaw and their greatest power, either getting them into deep trouble, or getting them promotions. Johzenji was happy to be doing something for Terushima, because there was something deeper, a rooted loyalty to the young alpha that sent them spinning in circles, demanding information to return to him, not wanting to disappoint; with Fukurodani, there was a stiffer respect, a joking one, though still solid, wasn’t as… _fearful_ as Terushima. Somehow, this one-time command sent a shock of seriousness through their bodies, one that would not be ignored—maybe it was because they had all witnessed a sixteen-year-old Terushima kill a man who was attempting to rape a prostitute. Maybe it was because they had all, at some point in their friendship with the alpha, seen a dark glimmer of pure hatred in those almond eyes. Maybe it was simply because Yuuji had been the one to casually invite them into his little group of friendship.

 

None of Johzenji could explain their sudden nerves as seeing Yuuji waiting in the recliner.

 

“Sit, sit.” He rushed, motioning them down. They did so wordlessly, and Bobata spoke first.

“Tanji’s never been married, but he had a secret mistress, an omega, when he was about twenty-five, right after he was written off from his father’s will.”

“Why was he written off?”

“His father didn’t think he was strong enough to lead Shiratorizawa.” Kazuma explained. Who knew Johzenji could be so serious? “It seems that for a while, he let himself go, angry about the recent decision, but then he returned to claim his spot when the original Washijo died, leaving the omega mistress behind.”

Terushima’s body didn’t relax.

“So through his self-banishment, he figured out that the best way to tear down his enemies was through an attractive omega; can’t say I didn’t see that coming. What else?”

“He hasn’t had an omega since, so he got a lot of experience out of that one woman.” Rintaro said quickly. “I met her, drove all the way to friggin Date Tech to talk…and she told me that Tanji was always serious during their time together, but later on, he seemed to have a mental breakthrough about something. That was right before he dumped her and went back to Shiratorizawa. He started going to a lot of clubs, observing other omegas, their alphas, how they acted, how society thought of prostitution, the old forms of Japanese art…he even attended university to learn about geishas, you know, those dancing women?”

“Bastard.” Terushima growled under his breath. “Leave it to him to go to college just to learn about what people want.”

“Essentially, his entire past leads him straight towards being the suspect for the omega kidnappings.” Rin confirmed. “His schooling, his early reputation as a bar hopping man, his earliest attempts at gathering the hottest omegas in Japan to use for his clubs…it all adds up.”

“Katsumuchi,” Yuuji addressed. “What did you find out about his recent financial activity?”

“Well,” Kat said, rubbing his hands together. “Shiratorizawa really didn’t have a lot of funds to begin with, having spent all their money from their early and only success so many years ago, during the 50’s, but Tanji’s been spending most of what he has left on housing and décor for the _Body Electric_ club.” He explained. “My guy over on Nekoma’s block, who lives across from those shitty apartments, tells me that even though the omega’s names aren’t registered in the book as owning the apartments, they pay the rent every month. The guy hasn’t ever met Tanji Washijo, but he thinks he’s a pretty shitty bastard, considering that the omegas all have side jobs and still can’t make enough to pay anything ahead or more than their month’s rent. Basically, the guy’s a cheap-ass son of a bitch who doesn’t use his tools to his advantage.”

 

Yuuji’s lips cruelly curved upwards at the insult.

 

“You’re right,” He agreed, giving Kat a little confidence booster. “If he weren’t so conceited and proud, he would know that he could learn a hell of a lot more money by pampering his ‘tools,’ or at least give them decent housing…think of how well-known he would be if they had lotions, oils, hair products to help their appearance, instead of caking makeup all over their faces.”

“That’s very true,” Bobata agreed in surprise. “I can only imagine how much more noticeable they’d be if they weren’t so poor and neglected…”

“Typical mistake of someone who’s power-hungry,” Rintaro said. “They rush into things, get too eager, get too greedy; he might do well on the talking-up part, but he should pay more attention to exactly _what_ he’s talking-up.”

 

“What else?” Terushima asked.

 

Johzenji spoke of Tanji’s habits, from old methods of dancing, to the old Japanese arts he learned to manipulate by watching other strippers in Japan, how he hired Japan’s best retired prostitute to train Konoha and Arata—she was easy to pay off. All Bobata had to do was hand her a hundred dollar bill and she sung like a canary. She explained her methods, how Tanji failed to mention how he stolen the omega children from actual homes, and how she wanted to help them escape, but that Washijo seemed to figure this out before she could carry her plan out, taking the boys away abruptly. By then, they had already learned what they needed to know.

To Bobata, that conversation was the worst out of his findings.

Discovering the actual _methods_ she used to teach _Arata_ , innocent little Arata, how to please an alpha in bed, what games to play, how to maintain his body, how to control his body…and learning that Tanji got the idea of “knotting freebees” from her…it almost made him sick on the car ride home. He told Terushima about this and discovered how his reaction was similar to his.

 

“That’s fucking disgusting,” The cropped-haired alpha spat. “He’s so fucking cheap that he would sacrifice one of his omegas for breeding, _just_ so he won’t have to pay for their well-being for nine-months. What a shitty bastard—and all for what, a good five-grand?!”

“Actually, letting an alpha knot one of the omegas is his highest form of payment.” Rintaro interjected. “After the initial nine months of them financing the pregnancy, they have to pay Tanji ten-grand; that’s what Washijo says the omega would have earned, had they not become pregnant.”

 

That earned another shake of the head from Terushima, and he found himself gritting his teeth even harder at the thought of Haru being offered as nothing but a _fucking breeder_ —

 

“ _What else_?” He asked in stiff hiss. “What happens after they give birth?”

 

Johzenji’s silence was enough of an answer, but Yuuji wanted words.

 

“They—they go back to work.” Bobata dared to answer, looking his friend right in the eyes. “To my knowledge, Tanji’s never used this method yet. I checked the birth records and asked around the streets, but…the woman prostitute told me that after they give birth, if they don’t bounce right back and jump back into their previous state of physical fitness…he has them killed. At least that’s what she heard.”

Terushima slowly sat back in his chair, the others remaining silent. Images were flashing through his mind, images of that happening Takeharu, to Shibayama, to Konoha, more than likely…it was horrifying. Yuuji had killed a few people in his time, but never for any reason such as _that_ ; this mind-set was far beyond cruel, far beyond ridiculous. It was complete _insanity_ , from the mind of someone who had been under the gutter, down on his luck for far too long. To throw someone away like that, because of their _nature_ , because of how difficult it is for omegas to lose their pregnancy weight, to reform their hips to slender and seductive, which was arguably impossible for an omega who gave birth so recently, not even by their own will...

 

Tanji Washijo was insane—

 

And he needed to be stopped.

 

Terushima grabbed the phone on the table nearby him, dialing Akaashi’s number immediately. It rang twice, and someone picked-up.

“Yuuji-kun; what can I do for you?”

“Meeting at the Johzenji house when you have the time.” He said abruptly, straight to the point. “We have the information. Shiratorizawa needs to be destroyed.”

A half-second pause.

“Bokuto-san and I are on our way. Stay put.”

 

Yuuji hung-up and stood onto his feet, stomping around the room like a toddler as he thought of how he was going to rip Tanji apart, limb by limb, vein by vein.

 

“Do you have the addresses?” He asked sharply.

“Yes.” Kat nodded. Johzenji didn’t take their attentive eyes off their leader. “Are we going over there right now?”

“As soon as Akaashi gives the okay, we’re going to Tanji’s main office.” Yuuji practically growled, closing his eyes in burning anger. “Fuck tradition of not invading someone’s territory. We did it all the time back in Johzenji…that fucker’s going to pay. Grab all the guns you can, the knives, the belts, anything and everything we have hidden here.”

Terushima stopped as his crew stood up excitedly, energy flooding over their bodies. Within ten-minutes, they had collected all of their hidden weapons, creating some along the way; once they were all back at the doorway, ready to go, Yuuji turned his head, eyes glowing with gold fire, so unlike Yachi that in the moment, it wouldn’t have been able to be determined that the pair were siblings, or even _remotely_ related to one another.

 

“Today is Tanji Washijo’s last day on earth.”

 

Seconds after that statement, the front door burst open, prompting all of Johzenji to whip out their hand guns, only to find that it was Yaku who had interrupted their meeting. He was out of breath and his eyes were huge with relief upon spotting the group.

 

“ _Fuck_ , Yaku!” Bobata exclaimed, lowering his gun. “Don’t pull shit like that! I could have blown your head off!”

“You can’t go,” Yaku huffed desperately. “You can’t go to Tanji’s!”

“Why the hell not?” Terushima replied angrily, storming up to Morisuke. “Give me one reason why I can’t, Yaku-san?!”

“Because!” Nekoma’s leader shouted back. “Because Tanji Washijo has a hitman!”

 

Johzenji all gave each other astounded looks, having never seen anyone from Nekoma this high-strung and stressed before, especially not _Yaku_. Yuuji’s posture stiffened, but lowered its defenses as he didn’t take his eyes off Morisuke, asking for an answer without saying anything. Yaku tried to catch his breath before explaining, and as he did, Bokuto and Akaashi came hurrying inside, looking at everyone in astonishment.

“What’s going on?” Keiji asked quickly.

“Tell us, Yaku-san.” Bokuto prompted, giving him a pat on the back to help level his breaths. “Tell us what happened.”

 

~~~-~~~

 

It was only Shibayama’s fourth day. His fourth fucking day of work, at his very first job. Yaku had never felt more triggered in his entire life.

 

The day started out as the usual, their new routine that began when Yuki was hired to answer phones for Traveling Cats. Today was Thursday, so Yaku was the one working with Shibayama, which he was very happy about. The young omega had surprised both Morisuke, Fukunaga, and himself when he blossomed as a receptionist, his polite, pleasant voice immediately calming and reassuring to any customer who called, panicking over their missed flight, their dislike of their new location, etc. etc. The incident took place right as Yaku left to pick-up their lunch for the day, insisting that he would pay, since Yuki was now his employee; he left Lev in the omega’s care, since the dumb cat seemed to behave more with him around. Still, he made sure the front door was shut firmly behind him.

 _So far, I’ve only stumbled over my words thirty-seven times_ , Shibayama thought with a little smile. _That’s a pretty good day for me, considering how little human interaction I’ve had so far in my life…and considering how little I know about maps, traveling, pretty much everything about this job. Oh well! Yaku-san says I’m doing well, and thankfully, he hasn’t mentioned the scenting incident. Maybe I’ll get lucky, and his entire memory will be erased, though that’s selfish and a bit crude to think…_

 

Yuki’s reflections were halted by the phone ringing, stirring Lev from his sleep in the corner of the desk. The dark-haired boy grabbed the phone and cleared his throat before answering.

 

“This is Shibayama at Traveling Cats travel agency; how may I help you?”

“Yuuuki!” A sultry voice greeted, making the omega’s heart stop beating, his muscles freeze. “I’m so glad it was you who answered! We haven’t spoken in _forever_ …I’ve had a couple jobs out of Tokyo, way on the other side of Japan, but I’m still living the dream,” The caller laughed. It was the same laugh that always sent chills down Yuki’s spine, no matter how long ago it was that he had heard the noise. “Anywhoo, I was wondering what flight to take from Sapparo to Tokyo; I heard it’s only your first week, but can you also check who’s going to be driving the plane of the flight? Always gotta be watching my back, you know—life as a hitman!”

Shibayama was sure he had lost the ability to speak; when was the last time Tanji had hired the hitman? Yuki remembered the last time he saw him all too well, since it haunted his worst nightmares, since that same voice came through his mind whenever he was at his lowest, whenever he was frightened or anxious—

 

It was the voice of Tanji Washijo’s favorite hitman, Suguru Daisho.

 

“Yuki-chan? You still there?”

“I—I—I can ch-check!”

“Hahaha! Still as lovable as ever, huh Shibayama? I know Sapparo is a good 500 miles away from Tokyo, but I need the fastest flight possible. Tanji’s inviting me over for dinner! By the way, how’s everyone been doing?”

That was a question Yuki couldn’t possibly answer, no matter how hard he tried.

“I—I…there’s…there’s a flight, from…from…wait—no…you…you’d be better…taking the train.” Yuki forced out, mouth dry, lips trembling, hands and fingers barely able to function with how severe their tremors were. His vision was blurry with on-coming tears, and he prayed that Suguru wouldn’t realize that he was on the verge of sobbing into the phone. “Well…I guess there is a flight…a-and a man n-amed Jin is d-driving—I mean—f-flying…”

“Oo, great! Is it a private flight?”

“I—Yes. Yes.”

“Can you call ahead and get that all sorted out? I’ve got a date in a few minutes. I want to leave tomorrow, no earlier than noon. Can you do that for your old pal, Shibayama?”

Yuki was seconds away from throwing-up the breakfast he never had.

“O-O- _Okay_!”

“You’re such a doll—thanks Yuki-chan! See you in Tokyo!”

 

Suguru hung-up, but Shibayama didn’t have the strength to do anything other than let the phone drop from his hand, immediately going to cover his mouth. He was beyond panicking at this point, and Yuki was in complete _hysteria_ when Yaku walked back in with their lunch; his body was shaking out of control, his limbs practically useless, struggling to regain control of themselves as he felt his heart empty itself of all confidence he had, causing his tears to stream out without him feeling as he turned inside himself, stomach churning with such anxiety it was a miracle he hadn’t started dry heaving at how much stress he was under so suddenly.

_Oh my god. Oh my god. Tanji invited Suguru. Suguru’s going to be here, in Tokyo, with US, in less than a day! What is Tanji planning? Does he know I have a job? Is he upset with us? Does he want Suguru to knot one of us? Oh my god, he’s going to kill us. He’s going to dump our bodies on the side of the road, then he’s going to make sure we never existed, and then he’s going to kidnap MORE omegas and use them to replace us!_

_But…who will he kill first?_

_Oh god…what if it’s ME? What if it’s ARATA? What about Haru?! Is he going to be first, because he’s been hanging out with Terushima-kun? Or will it be Konoha? He’s suffered enough, he doesn’t need Suguru right now—Suguru’s always liked him more than us, and Ennoshita will be stressed, because he has to keep Yamaguchi safe, and Tanji’s inviting him to dinner, and h—_

“Shibayama?” Yaku asked loudly in concern, causing Yuki to jump in fright so harshly it made Lev practically fly out of the room, his cat heart lurching right out of his chest. Shibayama had fallen to the floor from the violent flinch, eyes almost bulging with how wide and fearful they were—Yaku grew sick just from the sight. He set down the food and took a step towards the omega, whose scent was so powerfully oozing from every inch of his shaking skin it was nearly unbearably poisonous. The pleasant scent of steam was all but non-existent, and Morisuke was desperate to know what had caused such a drastic change in his mellow protégée.

“Shibayama,” He said in a hushed tone, bending down, but refraining from touching the omega, who was unable to move to protect himself. “Shibayama…it’s okay…it’s just me, Yaku…do you understand?”

 

Yuki didn’t react, though his eyes had tears seeping from the eyelids as he stared wildly at the alpha. And Morisuke thought seeing him _after_ he cried was terrible…

 

It must have been a good ten-minutes before Shibayama thought clearly enough to lean forward, silently pleading for Yaku to hold him, a gesture he gratefully accepted. Those ten-minutes had been torture, watching the little omega cry and hyperventilate without giving a hint as to what was wrong; the phone was on the floor, but that didn’t exactly explain why poor Yuki was on the floor in agonizing tears.

“Shh…it’s okay,” Yaku whispered as gently as possible, slowly putting both of his arms around the omega, who sunk into his chest, leaning over on his side to burrow closer. “It’s okay…shh…”

Morisuke tried to think of comforting thoughts as he softly stroked a black lock of Shibayama’s hair, emitting soothing scents to the omega, who was slowly coming back to reality, though his muscles were still trembling like there was no tomorrow. Once the heavy breaths ceded, Yaku began to nuzzle Yuki’s head with pure intentions, calming his racing heartbeat down slowly, but surely. Only then did the omega try to explain.

“Suguru,” He whispered shakily, eyes tightly closed as he shamelessly pushed himself further into Yaku’s body. “Suguru’s coming…”

“Suguru…Suguru Daisho?” Morisuke clarified.

 

Shibayama nodded, and Yaku’s heart sunk.

 

“He…h-he’s a… _hitman_.” Yuki whispered, fearing the title to be taboo. “And he’s c-coming…to Tokyo…”

 

Morisuke didn’t address what he wanted to. He didn’t ask how Yuki knew Suguru, how he knew he worked here, why he was coming, or where he was coming from. He didn’t do anything but pretend it wasn’t that big of a deal, and held Shibayama closer, nuzzling his soft, velvety hair until the omega had calmed down enough where he was breathing normally, though the entire stressful ordeal had made him exhausted. This was not how either boy imagined their first physical interaction happening; Yuki had imagined it to be more romantic, less life-threatening, while Morisuke thought it would be more awkward, less comfortable. Yaku decided that the best thing for him was to be at home, in the presence of his fellow omegas, who knew him a lot better than Morisuke did, though he didn’t want to admit it.

After some coaxing, Shibayama agreed that he should leave, and was assured by the travel agent/accountant that he wouldn’t be taking money out of his paycheck for missing a few hours. The accountant insisted on taking him home, so after getting Fukunaga to cover for them, he drove Yuki over to the apartment complex, and even carried the omega up to his room. Shibayama spent the entire walk trying to discreetly smell Yaku, though he couldn’t be that discreet, because he had never smelled anything so wonderfully calming to his fried nerves. It wasn’t at all like how he first smelled Yaku—he wondered how this firm, determined scent could ever cause him to panic like it had last week, when now, it was doing nothing but engulfing him in the best way possible, making his heart feel a little… _safer_. The feeling was so intense he just had to let it be known.

 

“Yaku-san,” He forced out in a scratchy, weak whisper, slightly delusional from stress, but still sincere. “Yaku-san smells…rea—reassure…”

Morisuke almost beamed in pride at that, his heart giving a warm surge of gentleness as his affection for the little omega grew even deeper. Before knocking on the door, he gave Shibayama a hug, as well as he could in the bridal position they were in. Yuki responded by giving a soft, happy gasp—

 

The noise, like Yaku’s scent to Shibayama, was enough to calm him down.

 

After knocking, there was the sound of several locks being opened, and Arata, in his pajamas, opened the door, shocked at the sight he was met with.

“He’ll explain later,” Yaku said quietly, not wanting to stir the shivering omega. “He’s not hurt, but I thought it be best if he was at home.”

When the alpha attempted to ease Yuki off him, Shibayama made a quick grab at his clothing, not wanting to leave his touch; when he realized what he did, he slowly untensed his fingers and drew his hands back shyly. As Arata, the tough guy, held his friend in his arms, Yuki forced himself to open his eyes and look back at Yaku.

“I’m sorry,” He said softly. “Th…thank you, Yaku-san…”

“Don’t be sorry, Shibayama.” Yaku whispered. “Feel better, okay?”

 

Arata gave the alpha a thankful look, then closed the door.

 

_Suguru…Suguru, the hitman…is coming to Tokyo._

 

Yaku’s disposable cell phone rang, then, and he answered without checking who it was.

“…Yes?”

“Yaku-san, it’s Akaashi; we got a call from Terushima, and we’re all meeting up over there to discuss this Shiratorizawa situation. Yuuji-kun sounded dangerous, so I think it’s best that we all go ov—”

Morisuke threw the phone down and bolted out of the apartment complex, knowing that if Terushima did something to Tanji, his hitman was sure to make a bloody present of revenge.

 

And he wasn’t going to let that revenge involve Shibayama.

 

~~~-~~~

 

By late afternoon, the only thing that could cure Terushima’s boiling anger over the rejection of whacking Tanji Washijo was Takeharu. By _later_ in the afternoon, the only thing that was keeping Takeharu and the other Roses from being evicted was his extra shift at the restaurant.

 

The call from Tanji that he ignored had been an important one; Shiratorizawa’s leader was calling to inform Haru that he was “pre-depositing” his paycheck for this Friday night. Essentially, this put the omegas in a very tight position—while Konoha and Arata made a substantial more amount than the others, they were trying to save some for the future and whatever it held; Haru refused to dip into what little they had in that secret extra wall behind the first bedroom, and so, forced himself to accept a full shift at the restaurant, 8am to 9pm. Washing dishes really wasn’t that difficult of a job, and it would take someone pathetically ignorant to screw up, so it’s not like Haru was under a lot of stress…but he constantly found himself under the fear that he would be fired for something he didn’t do, or accidently did, or would be accused of stealing, or that one of his co-workers or bosses would try to take advantage of him, or that he would make someone angry…he supposed that fear was rooted from how he was kidnapped from his own home at the age of eleven.

 _Stupid Tanji_ , Haru thought to himself at 9:30, alone in the kitchen, wiping the last of the dishes. _Stupid rent. Stupid crappy apartment. Stupid horny alphas. Stupid stripping choreographers. I wonder what Terushima-kun is up to tonight; I hope he doesn’t get upset when I’m not there to answer the phone…I really do want to tell him more stories, but I’m exhausted after today. We’ve kept things daily, but it is only the first week of our friendship…maybe he doesn’t just want to hear stories about her, though—I mean, I’m no catch, but when I run out of stories after a year or so, I think we’ll be good friends, so it’ll be at least a little bit difficult to let me go when there’s really no blatant reason to keep me around anymore._

Haru paused, taking a moment to look at his reflection in the shiny, tin pot he had just dried. He doubted anything but his body in an insulting, provocative outfit was attractive to Yuuji; the only crush Futamata had was on Konoha in the first days of his enslavement, and that had disappeared once it became clear that they had other things to worry about. He didn’t know what it was like to be appreciated, cherished, treated as a real human being—unfortunately, he did know what it was like to be wanted. The stalkers had only gotten scarier and scarier over the years, a topic he tried to avoid talking about no matter what, because if anything frightened Haru, it was the fact that Tanji wasn’t the only one who saw him as nothing but a hot piece of ass. It never failed to upset the poor omega.

 

 _Besides…I think by that time, I won’t be able to let Terushima go, either,_ Haru thought, resuming his task _. Maybe, if I can afford lotion, I—_

 

“Working hard or hardly working?”

 

Haru jolted violently, whipping around to see Terushima grinning at him casually, leaning against the doorframe of the kitchen.

“Oh! It’s just you,” The omega sighed in relief. “Well, not _just_ you, but…”

Yuuji chuckled with that devilish smirk and strolled over to where Haru was doing the dishes, nudging a cart of plates to the side with his foot. _Damn_ , Takeharu thought to himself, unconsciously checking Terushima out. _He’s way too cool for his own good…_

“How did you know I was here?”

“How come you’re working so late?” Yuuji retaliated.

_Telling him about my financial problems…doesn’t seem like a topic I want to discuss with someone as obviously financially stable as he is…_

“…I asked you first.” Haru said, smiling a little.

“You caught me,” Terushima joked, putting his hands up. “I’m your stalker. I know what days of the week you work, what hours, what time you leave, everything!”

 

Judging on how fast Haru paled, Yuuji suspected he had said the wrong joke. He put his hands down and stepped a little closer to the omega, trying to put him at ease with a lazy smile, though the concern in his eyes was probably showing a bit too much.

 

“I’m not actually stalking you, Haru.” He said in reassurance.

“O-Oh! Oh yeah, I know!” Takeharu nodded with a nervous laugh. “But it’s happened before, so I was just—freaked out for a second…but anyway…how was your day?!”

Terushima was about to ask more about his history of stalkers, but the reminder of his morning brought back unpleasant memories. He tried not to show how much his body had stiffened at the mention, distracting Haru by folding the dish washer’s sleeve back up over his forearm, but that only provided _him_ with a distraction, or so he thought.

“It was… _informative_ , you could say. How about you? I guess dishwashing isn’t exactly an adrenaline pumping job.”

“It was okay,” Haru smiled, brighter than last time. “And you’re definitely right about that.”

“Well, be bored no more—let’s go get some dinner.”

“Right…right now?”

“Yeah! I know a great sushi place downtown. Usually we’d have to make a reservation, but I think they’ll make an exception.”

 

Terushima began to turn, but saw that Haru was much too thoughtful, putting his hands at his sides to play with his loose work pants.

 

“Um…well…I still have some work to do,” The omega hesitated. “And that sounds really nice, but I don’t think I’m up for a lavish night out tonight. But I can tell you a quick story, if that’s what you came for!”

Yuuji stopped himself from blatantly telling Haru that Yachi wasn’t the only reason he kept hanging around—the pause was shocking, and the Johzenji playboy reminded himself to seriously evaluate how far deep he was with this kid.

“We don’t have to go out,” Terushima said, retrieving Haru’s attention again. Man…he never wanted those big brown eyes off him. “I’ll order in; we can eat at your place, if you want. I’ll go tell your manager you’re leaving, so he can finish up here.”

 

Haru’s mouth dropped open at the terrifyingly frightening proposition Terushima gave him; _he’s going to tell my BOSS that?!_ He thought wildly, hurrying after Terushima as he exited the kitchen. _Is he insane?! He’ll get me fired for sure!!! I must stop him!!!! I have to pay my rent!!!!_

 

The omega tripped several times on his way out of the room, and by the time he made it to his location, Terushima was already with his manager; nerves shattered, he scurried back inside, sneaking terrified glances through the tiny circle window right at his eye level. His manager didn’t look _that_ angry yet…in fact, he had this impressed expression on his usually stern face, making Haru suspicious— _how on earth is Terushima going to convince him to let me leave? Someone has to get the dishes done for tomorrow morning…is it going to be me?_

_How can Terushima do this?_

 

A few seconds later, Yuuji was giving the manager a hearty handshake and an unusually charming smile that made Haru think Terushima had lied in some way. The cropped-haired alpha then turned around, strolling stylishly back to where Takeharu was blinking at him eagerly, silently pleading for an explanation. At first, Yuuji didn’t give him one, sliding through the doors and offering his arm to the omega politely.

After a long pause, Haru finally caved.

“How did you do that?” He asked curiously, linking his arm with his.

“Do what?” Terushima teased while letting the boy lead him to the breakroom.

“Make my manager cool with me leaving before I finished!”

Yuuji laughed at Haru’s joy and awe, reluctantly allowing him to unlink their arms in order to get his shockingly thin coat. He wasn’t surprised, however, at how the omega didn’t carry a bag or purse with him to work—considering he probably took a longer shift than usual in order to secure more money for rent, there was no need for a satchel, because he didn’t have extra cash lying around. _I’ll discreetly take care of that later_ , Yuuji thought to himself, trying not to be obvious as he watched Haru slip his jacket on, seeing a small section of skin between his shirt and pants. _Imagine that…I’ve seen the kid do a provocative strip dance, and yet, I’m excited when I see a sliver of his skin while he’s at work. That sounds so unlike me._

“Ready to go?”

“Yeah! Are we really going to order food? Do fancy places do that?”

“Of course! How do you think I survive week to week? Order in!”

Haru laughed, the first real laugh Terushima had heard, and nodded in agreement, though he only ordered take-out when they could afford it.

“Well you just seem like more of a social guy, so I figured you’d be all for going out, taking your time, you know.” He shrugged as Yuuji opened the back door for him. “But I guess I should have known better than to underestimate you.”

 

Terushima grinned again, looking over at Haru thoughtfully as they strolled over to his car, the mood loosening up with each word.

 

“I guess I’ll have to show you a little more of my _wonderful_ personality during the car ride.”

 

Before Haru could open the passenger door, Terushima did it himself, his other hand hovering behind the omega’s shoulder, not touching, but teasing both of them with the act. Once they were settled in, Yuuji turning the heat up immediately, he began asking Haru simple questions about himself. He wanted to know the things that weren’t on his file. He wanted to know if he was afraid living where he did, if he was a naturally anxious person, like Shibayama, if he liked pigs in blankets, if he liked animals, pranks…being in the yakuza could give him all the information he wanted to know, but nothing could get him as close to Haru as reality.

“So, Haru-chan.” Yuuji prompted, reaching over to grab the omega’s seatbelt for him. “Tell me about yourself.”

“What do you want to know?”

There was a lot of answers to that question.

“Can you take a joke?”

“Hehe!” Haru giggled, and to Yuuji, that was an answer enough. “Oh yeah! I love playing harmless pranks on my roommates, so jokes go along with the rest of my life.”

“Good to hear,” Terushima chuckled fondly. “We should get along just fine.”

“Good.” Futamata replied in a quieter tone, glancing out the window. “…I’m glad.”

 

Although the ride was short, both boys felt as if time had slowed down; their questions prompted longer replies each time, and Terushima learned that Takeharu was an inch taller than him, liked Travel Channel, loved homemade bread, wore socks to bed, could eat and eat without gaining weight, and his favorite singer was none other than Lana Del Rey, which triggered an exciting conversation about how Terushima had been weirdly hearing a lot of her songs lately. Haru got really into the topic, going so far as to tell Yuuji about his enjoyment of lying awake at night and doing nothing but listening to each syllable of her words, each tremble of the piano, each slide of the strings on a violin. As he explained, Terushima found his eyes drifting off the road and instead focusing on how the yellow stoplight accented Haru’s face stunningly, glowing right behind his hair, giving his face an eerie beauty.

He could have looked at the sight all day, had Haru not mentioned the fact that they were holding up traffic.

“What’s with all the people?” Takeharu wondered out-loud as they drove up to the apartment complex.

“That’s the food!” Terushima exclaimed, hurrying to unbuckle their seatbelts. His face was inches from Haru’s neck, and yet, he couldn’t smell a damn thing. “Come on!”

 

The pair hurried upstairs, where the rest of the Delicate Roses were standing outside in the hallway, confused and concerned about what the hell was going on. Arata’s eyes went wider than usual when he spotted a giddy Haru with a grinning Terushima, and he tugged on Konoha’s baggy shirt to get his attention.

 

“Hey guys!” Haru greeted, skipping over to where all but Shibayama were standing. “Did you see the people?! They brought food for us!”

“Tokyo has charity?” Konoha asked dryly, pleased at seeing Takeharu so cheerful. They hadn’t had such a good day here, but seeing him made everything a little better.

“Terushima…did you order all of this?” Haru asked in shock, watching as three carts came wheeling down in their direction.

 

Seeing that touched expression on the omega’s face made Yuuji grin prouder than he ever had before.

 

“Sure did,” He answered mellowly. “I don’t know about you guys, but I’m hungry; let’s dig in!”

 

~~~-~~~

 

Johzenji’s pack leader and Tanji’s omegas spent a lovely evening together at their little dinner table eating Tokyo’s best sushi under the light of a flickering kitchen lightbulb. They laughed at Haru’s terribly corny (but incredibly cute) pick-up lines, Arata’s giggling/snorting, Terushima’s nasty sauce combinations, pretty much anything and everything. The omegas couldn’t remember a time where they had laughed so much with someone outside of their group, someone who wasn’t wasted, who didn’t have to be wasted to have fun. It was very noticeable that Shibayama wasn’t in as a loose mood as the others, but Yuuji was quick to distract him with questions about the animal shelter, how he kept his hair so shiny, and how he managed to maintain his flawless skin. Terushima sat across from Haru, and for once, didn’t play footsie with anyone underneath the table, though he did notice Haru himself twitch every once in a while, followed by Tsucchi giving him a tiny smirk. Takeharu was possibly even more adorable than usual when he was eating, his bites small, but frequent, like a baby bunny or something.

 

For a night, everything was okay.

 

“So…Terushima-kun,” Ennoshita started suspiciously as they were finishing their food. “What kind of job do you have, exactly, where you can get five-star restaurants to deliver to you at the snap of your fingers?”

“Hmm…well, Chikara-chan, I’m what you would call a professional distraction.” Yuuji explained, noting that Haru was listening very intently. “I get information for people here and there…learn Tokyo’s biggest secrets, secrets of the biggest men…and people pay me a petty prince in exchange for those secrets.”

“Interesting.” Ennoshita mumbled to himself. A second later, Konoha said what they had all been thinking.

 

“So basically, you’re in the yakuza?”

 

Yuuji’s eyes flickered towards Haru, who was staring at him expectantly.

 

“I guess you could call it that,” He answered a bit stiffly, trying to play it off with a smile. “Unfortunately, the rest is classified information, but I can tell you that I have a pretty cool group of other kids who you guys would like. They’re really fun, love to dance, and Rintaro can make one hell of a margarita!”

“Sounds like the Delicate Roses.” Konoha joked.

“Delicate Roses?” Terushima snorted. “What’s that?”

“Oh, nothing; that’s just what Tanji the Great refers to us as when talking to potential customers.” Akinori explained casually. “We’re his roses in a garden of weeds, you could say…he tells them we’re the blossoms of Tokyo, rare specimens of beauty; the delicate part isn’t very true for me, but for these kids, I guess it makes sense.” He smiled, ruffling up Arata’s fluffy hair.

 

As unemotionally as Haru had responded to Yuuji’s job reveal, Terushima was practically a book of expressions, shooting an astounded look at the omega. _Not only did he take their lives away…but he actually has a title, a NAME for them?_ Yuuji thought in disgust, sensing how the mood had changed. _That fucker…I could kill him…I could kill him and all of Suguru Daisho if they ever suck Haru into more of their sexual games._

 

Terushima cleared his throat just as Shibayama quietly excused himself from the table and went to turn the sink on, silently putting an end to their get-together. Haru had noticed something amiss in his friend’s scents, but now, seeing how affected Yuki was, he figured it was time to let Yuuji return to his life, so that he could get to the bottom of this invisible war.

“I’ll walk you to your car, Terushima.” Haru said, standing up. “Say thank you, guys!”

“ _Thank you Terushima_.” They repeated without energy, though they really did mean it from the bottom of their hearts. They had never known what it was like to be pampered, and for a glorious, beautiful hour, they finally got a taste of the sweet life.

It was both inspiring and ruining.

 

“Don’t mention it! And hey, if you guys ever need anything, just ca—”

“Call Karasuno or Nekoma.” Ennoshita rolled his eyes. “We got it.”

“What?! They gave you their cards already?!” Terushima exclaimed, whipping out his own. “But mine changes colors!”

 

The omegas erupted into laughter again, and Yuuji left his card and the boys in good spirits when he and Haru made their way downstairs. As Terushima was reflecting on the good deed he did, he didn’t notice Takeharu slyly inching himself closer to his arm, trying to catch a whiff of his scent. Only when they made it all the way outside and were stopped by the gold Ferrari did he get enough courage to just come right out and ask what he had wanted to ask since the Johzenji member leaned over to unbuckle his seatbelt over an hour ago.

Before he could get it out, Terushima spoke.

“Thanks for letting me come over,” He said, smiling that cool smile. “I really appreciate it; I’m glad you don’t feel ashamed about where you live or anything, because really, there’s almost nothing in life to be ashamed of.”

“I really don’t think that’s true for anyone except you, Terushima.” Haru joked, feeling a slight blush rush to his cheeks. Now that the plan had gone awry, where did he go from here? _Don’t panic. Don’t panic_. “Thanks again for…well…everything. We all had a really great time, and it’s not often we get to do stuff like this, so thank you. I’ll try to pay you back by bettering my storytelling skills.”

“Nah,” Terushima laughed. “You’re already paying me back, Haru-chan. Would you believe me if I told you that this is the longest I’ve had an omega be able to stand my presence?”

“Yes.”

 

Yuuji laughed that damn laugh again, and Haru blurted the question out before all the breath in his lungs escaped.

 

“Yuuji?!” He squeaked. “Will you let me smell you?!”

 

Terushima paused, taken aback by the request; but he wasn’t about to say no to Haru, and that was a very dangerous thought.

 

“Sure.”

Haru’s eyes softened a bit, losing their anxiety.

“Really?”

“Why not? I know I smell sexy.” He joked as a way of maintaining his blush. Terushima straightened his posture, allowing the collar of his suit to slide down an inch or so. “Take a whiff.”

 

Haru only gave himself one moment of hesitation, one moment to consider the fact that once he smelled and alpha for the first time, there was no going back. It was win or lose, save or die.

 

Takeharu leaned forward, and inhaled.

 

A rush of the jolting smell made Haru lean back for a split second, before leaning even closer; Terushima smelled like orange juice, freshly squeezed in the early hours of the morning. It was spritzy, the pulp almost engraved into his pale skin, and Haru liked to think that he tasted like oranges, with the wildness of nature, and the sour, tart spice of morning juices. The scent could almost be described as…splashes. Splashes of water, of golden, shining water that had an airy breeze to it, but with surprising bursts of leaves, whiskey, and other strange combinations.

To Haru, Terushima smelled like a flashing sunset on a summer evening in Bel Air.

Konoha had been right when he said the first alpha was always the best alpha; he was sure nothing could ever come close to this beautiful realization, this everlasting, pure feeling of inhaling something so powerful that it seemed unrealistic that anything in the world could ever be ugly.

 

Haru’s legs quivered, and he forced himself to pull back, the reflection in his eyes dancing with the color orange.

 

Yuuji himself was starstruck at having been so close to Takeharu that he forgot to try and smell him as well; he was too busy alternating between staring at the dark, thin locks of the omega’s soft hair and loosely closing his eyes, enjoying the feeling of Haru’s closeness. When the omega pulled back, he found himself desperate, wanting to step forward again, to seek out this feeling once more.

Haru’s cheeks were flushed—as innocent as his body’s reaction was to smelling his first alpha, Terushima’s much differently-coded body was reacting in a darker way, though he kept it in check by asking a polite question in return.

“Mind if I return the favor?” He whispered, voice unintentionally husky.

As relaxed as Haru had been, stuck in a heavenly state, that phrase got to his nerves pretty quickly for someone almost in a state of collapsing.

“Um,” He mumbled quietly, biting his lip. “I…I’m sorry…”

Terushima opened his eyes, not knowing he had closed them.

“Is that a no?”

“I…I actually would like it if you would, but…I-I’ve had my fair share of stalkers in the past, and they never get addicted until they get too close, when they smell me, you know, so I just don’t want that to happen to you, because you’re really nice and cool, and I like you, so I just don’t this to ruin things.” He said breathlessly.

 

To his surprise, Terushima smiled. It was a different smile than usual, one the alpha had only ever given to one other person: his little sister, Yachi.

 

“Don’t worry about hurting my feelings, Haru-kun.” He said. “Usually omegas reject me with a good slap, so this is a much better option.”

Haru gave as much as a smile in return as he could in his intoxicated state. Yuuji wasn’t making the situation better by briefly touching Haru’s hand as he bid him farewell.

“Things are going to start changing for the better, Takeharu.” Yuuji promised seriously. “Have a good night, relax, kick-back…and try to get some normal sleep tonight.”

As Terushima turned to go towards his car, Haru decided to take the bait.

“What do you mean, ‘normal sleep’?” He called.

 

That dangerous glint shimmered in Terushima’s eyes again.

 

“Beauty sleep can be tiring, can’t it? You should take a night off every once in a while…I’m sure nothing will change.”

 

If Haru was blushing, he couldn’t feel it over how huge and bright his smile became, stretching over his cheeks cheesily. Terushima burned the image into his mind, trying not to miss a second as he slipped into his car, immediately lowering the window down to make sure there was no other alpha within even a _block_ of Haru.

“I’ll call you!” Yuuji said. _Jeez, do I really sound so desperate?_

Haru’s smile grew, and he waved wildly.

“Okay! Goodnight Terushima!”

“Night!”

 

Reluctantly, Yuuji drove away.

 

For a good ten-minutes, his dreamy drooling and pining over Takeharu kept his mind at bay, in a state of peace he had never known in all of his life. He wanted to kiss the omega, run his hands through his hair, if only to feel their texture; he wanted to kiss those lips, those thin, pale lips that looked so inexperienced, but so seductive and knowledgeable at the same time, a look only Haru himself could pull off.

Terushima _wanted_ Haru, even having only smelled him one single time. Which reminded him…

 

_Time to go kick some stalker ass._

 

~~~-~~~

 

By the time Futamata lolly-jagged up to the apartment, all the other omegas and betas were asleep. When he found Shibayama, Arata was spooning him, knocked out from the heavy amounts of food his little belly was full of; Haru could tell Yuki wasn’t completely asleep, and so, crept into bed quietly, unable to stop the smile from making permanent residence on his lips. When he laid down on his back, Yuki’s eyes crept open.

“Goodnight.” Haru whispered. “Love you.”

 

_What a night…who would have thought it would come to this? Eating fancy food with Terushima, laughing with each other, telling dumb jokes, pick up lines…learning that he’s part of one of the yakuzas of Tokyo…that’s a little scary, but I don’t know much on the subject, so for now, I’m going to relish in the fact that he let me smel—_

 

A sound escaped Yuki’s pouting lips, and Haru turned a bit, peeking his eye open.

 

“Hm?” Haru mumbled sleepily.

 

“S… _Suguru_ …” Shibayama whispered.

 

Haru’s eyes shot wide open in absolute panic, but by the time he looked over for an explanation, the other omega was asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tbh Shibayaku is my favorite to write. They're just so precious!


	9. The Hitman's Arrival

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The hitman of Tokyo arrives...

With all the activity going on in everyone else’s love life, Bobata figured that he needed to make things right with Arata, before this mysterious Suguru arrived and made everyone busy and stressed beyond comprehension. On his day off (well…every day is kind of a day off for Johzenji), Kazuma worked harder than ever to locate the small beta; he asked without making up a cover story or being casual, he searched the streets without making it non-obvious that he was searching for someone—Bobata finally found Arata after two-hours of searching, sitting in a little cheap coffee place all alone, his usual prostitute companion nowhere to be seen.

 _…Now what?_ The alpha thought, drawing a blank as he stood on the other side of the street like a weirdo. _Do I offer him coffee? He already has coffee…do I offer him better, more expensive coffee? An apple turnover, maybe? I don’t know what treats he likes…maybe I should just wing it._

Bobata’s legs moved on their own, J-walking him over the busy street.

_Alright…guess I’m winging it._

 

Arata wasn’t going to pay attention to who was walking through the coffee shop door, but when a rush of a familiar alpha overpowered his senses, he found his eyes widening and drifting upwards, immediately meeting with Bobata’s. The caramel colored haired boy’s expression lit up, his lips turning into a nervous, but expecting smile; it faded some when he realized that the omega was staring at him with discomfort, haven’t not forgotten the disturbing incident days earlier. As much as Konoha thought Bobata wasn’t acting that way sincerely, Tsucchi had great trouble believing it; Konoha’s instincts had been wrong before. As prostitutes with little to no protection, they had to defend themselves as best they could, which included guarding themselves against deceptive personalities. While Bobata had bought him a new scarf, which ironically, he was wearing today…he couldn’t be trusted.

Arata knew very well what the yakuza was; so when this stranger rushed over to him, an apologetic look on his face, the short omega was on guard, despite his shaking, eager heart.

 

“Hey,” Bobata greeted casually, warmly. “Wasn’t expecting to see you here! Is the coffee any good?”

“It—It’s okay.” Arata shrugged shortly. He lowered his head to prevent seeing those glowing dark eyes—eye contact was his worst weakness. That and sweets. “You probably won’t like it…it’s pretty cheap.”

“Well, despite my fancy suits and cool car, I’m a pretty cheap bastard, Arata-kun.”

Kazuma laughed at his own comment, watching the omega’s every move; Tsucchi managed to give a short huff of laughter and a pained smile, already having made his mind up.

“I’m sorry, but I’ve g—”

“Please let me apologize,” Bobata cut him off, expecting the lie. “Please, sit down…or let me buy you another coffee. Please? For just a minute?”

 

The tan-haired omega flickered his eyes from Kazuma’s face to his dull black coffee, unable to make a full decision. He had some questions of his own that needed to be answered, but he didn’t want to waste his time on someone as untrustworthy as Bobata, who he barely knew, who had said provocative things to him, who had seen his show and was probably obsessed with him…

 _But…what if he’s…not as bad as I think?_ Arata wondered, biting his lip in turmoil. _What if he just knows the yakuza? That’s not so bad…is it?_

“You can apologize.” Tsucchi said quietly. “Bu—”

 

Before Arata could change his mind, Bobata spoke.

 

“I’m really sorry for the nasty things I said in front of Tanji the other day,” Kazuma said, eyes wide, in fear that the omega would run off before he could finish. “I was only saying those things to up your reputation, so Tanji wouldn’t be upset with you like he was when Terushima and I arrived; I’m not going to use you in the future like I say, and I apologize for hurting your feelings like that. I know it’s damaging to pretend, since you probably do it every night in a much more severe situation, so know that I’m serious when I say I’m sorry, Arata-kun.”

 _Arata-kun?_ Tsucchi thought, heart jumping. _When has anyone ever added such respect to my name?_

“I’d really appreciate it if you accepted my apology…though…I understand if you don’t.” Kazuma continued lowly. “If you’d like to me leave, just say so, and I’ll be out of your life. I won’t even wave to you on the street. I’ll be gone for… however long you’d like me to be gone.”

 

Arata stared blankly, unable to comprehend the situation. Bobata was…apologizing… _sincerely_. From his information on the yakuza, he knew they almost _never_ apologized, at least not unless there was something to gain from the lie; this fact made Tsucchi think maybe Bobata wasn’t part of the yakuza, or even friends with the yakuza, maybe just someone who said he _knew_ the yakuzas to scare people—but again, looking at how well dressed and well fed this alpha obviously was, he had to have connections somewhere…

And this person was the one apologizing to him.

 

What to do, what to do…

 

Realizing that he was unconsciously giving off a strange scent, Arata moved his scarf and held it over his neck, causing Bobata to flicker his eyes in that direction; he noticed the scarf with shock, but with a small swell of pride. The fact that the omega hadn’t thrown it away meant something to him, and he didn’t want to believe that despite this accepted gift, Arata was still so wary of him that he would walk away without acknowledging his apology. He didn’t want to believe it, and yet, he found his heart expecting it, upon remembering that Tsucchi probably dealt with shit like this all the time, from all those horny, wealthy alpha assholes Tanji approved of.

Following a short silence, passed by the two watching each other and reflecting on their own nervous thoughts, Arata spoke.

 

“What do you want to know?” He asked quietly.

“Huh?”

“You…you apologized…you’ve been trying to talk to me for a week now, so…if you say you don’t find me talented or good looking enough to bed, you must want some sort of information from me.” Arata explained, though it pained him to do so. “What do you want to know?”

Bobata was stunned for a moment, partly from Arata thinking he wasn’t attractive enough to where Kazuma wouldn’t want to sleep with him, or do _normal_ romantic things with him, and partly because the accusation was so on point that he had a hard time believing Arata himself wasn’t in on the plan with Tanji, who, despite his ignorance and arrogance, knew how the yakuza worked, what the true meanings were of words, questions, apologies…it was slightly terrifying to see such intelligence from an innocent looking face.

Making up his mind, Bobata took advantage of the omega’s intellect.

 

“What age were you when Tanji Washijo kidnapped you?”

 

As shocked as Arata was by that question, he wasn’t surprised; his nerves had been on edge ever since Shibayama came home with the news that Suguru was coming to Tokyo, so this sudden question should have had more of a dramatic effect than it did.

“When I was eleven.” He answered painfully. “Anything else?”

“No,” Bobata shook his head, standing up. “Thank you for being honest. Would you, uh…mind terribly if I…rewarded you for your honesty by asking you to lunch?”

“No.”

“…Huh?” The alpha said stupidly.

“I wouldn’t mind.” Arata clarified. He mumbled under his breath, looking down at his thin abdominal area. “I haven’t eaten since yesterday morning…”

“THEN LET’S HURRY!” Bobata accidently yelled, attracting the attention of the entire shop, much to the omega’s cringe. “I know a spot right around the corner, great Italian food, not even that expensive! I mean…unless you want to go somewhere else. You pick.”

“I’ve never had Italian,” Arata said quickly, moving towards the door, eager to get away from the stares they were getting. “But I won’t be able to pay for it…”

“Don’t worry about it! I got it covered!”

 

Bobata was so enthusiastic about their lunch that he almost swung the door right into Tsucchi’s poor little face. Arata didn’t even really notice because he was too caught up in his own anxiety, wondering if he made the right choice, if he should be afraid for his life, all while making sure that where they sat at the way-too-fancy Italian restaurant was public enough where maybe someone would help if Bobata began running a hand up his thigh while they ate…the entire situation was nerve-wrecking, but once they finally sat down together, across the table, it actually felt really nice—Arata had never been to such a place before, never went as far as dreaming of good quality food prepared especially for him. It wasn’t busy with obnoxious families, crazy drunks, or even a lot of large groups; most of the people there were dressed similar to Bobata, with their girlfriends or boyfriends, talking between themselves as the waiters practically became invisible.

When their waiter came to the table, however, the worker acted in a much different way.

 

“Bobata Boo!” He cheered, giving a firm, friendly handshake to the alpha. Arata almost didn’t see $20 bill be slipped into the man’s palm. “Haven’t seen you in here lately! What’s up, who’s this with you?!”

“This is Arata…”

“Tsuchiyu.”

“Arata Tsuchiyu. He’s a friend of mine.”

_I am?_

“Oh, great! What can I start you guys off with? Wine, maybe? Your favorite?”

“Yeah, and a couple waters as well, in case Arata-kun doesn’t like the zip in my drink.”

“You got it.”

 

Arata watched the waiter walk away, his mind spinning from the mixture of business and friendly attitude surrounding the alpha who was Bobata Kazuma. He seemed to notice that Arata was a little overwhelmed, because a light conversation was started to distract from the situation.

 

“Have you ever had real Italian wine before?”

“…I’ve never had _wine_ before.”

“Oh! Well…you don’t have to try any, then. Unless you want to. I like it myself, but I don’t know if there’s some certain alcohol tolerance level for omegas, so…”

With that conversation failing, Arata looked down at his squirming hands; _calm down_ , he told himself firmly. _Take a deep breath, and calm down…everything’s okay. You’re having a nice dinner with a new friend, that’s all! He even apologized to you, which you should probably say something about…_

“Thank you for apologizing,” Tsucchi said, glancing up to meet Bobata’s eyes. “And for buying me a new scarf.”

“No problem,” Bobata smiled with confidence, his original personality taking over with the casual topic. “It’s the least I could do, since that asshole you were with wasn’t about to take responsibility for it.”

“Yeah,” Arata gave a light huff. “He’s not a very nice person.”

“I’ll say.” A short, hesitant pause. “So…I know this is obvious, but…”

“Yes,” The omega interrupted. “He was a client of mine. I’m…I’m a…yeah. You know…what I tried to get you to do last Friday…”

 

Arata’s posture shrunk with the mention of his job, as did Bobata’s patience with Tanji Washijo; although he had not planned on asking the omega any more questions on his owner, the mention of this and Arata’s obvious depression over his lifestyle basically initiated his curiosity.

 

“So does Tanji set-up the appointments for you and your… _customers_?”

“Sometimes…” Arata answered slowly, thinking over his words. “Sometimes…he sets us up with friends of his…other times we just…go out and…” The omega shrugged far too innocently. “Gather them ourselves, I guess.”

Bobata hummed, not trusting his voice enough to speak. He decided to change the subject, in fear of his anger getting the best of him if they continued this conversation—that side of him was not one he ever wanted Arata to witness.

“How old are you?”

Arata wondered if he should lie.

“Twenty-two…how old are you?”

“Twenty-three. What’s your favorite color?”

“Um…grey?”

“Grey? That’s a new one. Well, admittedly, it’s a good color on you, not that I’m hitting on you or anything.” _Lie_. “What’s your least favorite mode of transportation?”

“Probably…walking. Walking alone, at least.”

“Same.”

Tsucchi’s short eyebrows were already risen as much as possible, but Bobata could still detect a look of surprise on his face.

“Really? Even though you’re an alpha?” He asked curiously, as if he couldn’t believe alphas could ever be afraid of something.

“Oh yeah—I know I look all tough and bad-ass, which is actually true, but I hate creepy things like that. I can’t sit through horror movies, either; a few years back, Terushima tricked me into going into the wrong theater, and instead of seeing Big Hero 6, we saw _As Above, So Below_! Half-way through the movie I felt like I was seconds away from peeing my pants, and Terushima was scared that I was actually going to _pee_ my _pants_ , so we had to leave.”

 

Arata laughed, the type of laugh that starts as a loud “HA” and falls into tiny giggles under their breath; Bobata was chuckling too, glad that his plan of “tell an embarrassing but humbling story about myself” worked just as he wanted it to. The waiter came hustling back to them with a bottle of dark wine and two glasses of water; Bobata advised him to only drink a sip of the wine, since they didn’t know what its effects would have on Arata—as it turns out, the wine wasn’t bad, just something that could only be described as Bobata. Kazuma mentioned that if he ever wanted to try it again, he had better call him down, because so far, Bobata’s been the only one who can handle his special wine. Tsucchi thought this was thoughtful of the alpha to mention, since omegas aren’t known to react responsibly when consuming alcohol or doing drugs; who knows what could have happened if Bobata had been one of those sick bastards who kept pouring Arata cup after cup after cup…

For lunch, Tsucchi ordered traditional spaghetti and meatballs, while Bobata went with his usual meal of pizza margherita, which looked so filling and huge Arata thought he might throw-up just looking at the richness of the sauce. When they began eating, it became clear that the omega had never, in any of his twenty-two years, had something so delicious and expensive. He didn’t exactly have impolite table manners, but had he stepped back and taken a look at himself, he would have seen himself horking down those noodles a bit too quickly—Shibayama might have lightly pinched him for eating like that. Bobata didn’t mind…he probably lost a bit of weight himself just because he was so focused on watching Arata eat that he forgot about his own food. He noted the way Arata ate, with little, but quick bites, fast chewing, almost like a cute little chipmunk or something; once the alpha realized how uncool it was to say the phrase “cute little chipmunk,” he blamed Arata.

 

Once the alpha realized how much he _didn’t care_ that he was being uncool, he blamed Arata even more.

 

 _I think I might die_ , Tsucchi thought to himself as Bobata was talking to the waiter. _Either from how good that food was, or from how nice Bobata is being to me; I don’t think I’ll have to eat for another week. Tanji might be mad at me for being bloated at the show, but alphas dig that, don’t they? …Well…what do I know about alphas. They could hate that, and then Tanji will make me go on a diet, as if I have enough money to buy specific food for a diet._

“Ready to go, Arata-kun?”

“Yes,” He nodded once. “Thank you for paying…I’m sorry I couldn’t chip in.”

“Pf,” Bobata scoffed, waving his hand. “Don’t worry about it—it’s better that a filthy rich bastard pay all of the bill than a filthy rich bastard and a modest little omega _splitting_ the bill.”

The filthy rich part wasn’t true, but compared to Arata’s situation, Kazuma figured himself very fortunate. As if he couldn’t love the kid any more, Tsucchi smiled softly and tried to tuck a stray piece of his hair back behind his little ear. Bobata somehow refrained from reaching out and doing it for him.

 _Alright…now that we’re done eating…do we part ways?_ The omega thought, awkwardly playing with his hands. _I don’t want to be rude, but Konoha wanted to go shopping today._

 

_And…what if…what if **Suguru** shows up in front of Bobata?_

 

“I’d better hurry home.” Arata said abruptly, stopping on the sidewalk. He turned to Bobata, making eye-contact for a solid half second before bowing. “Thank you for lunch. And…thank you for—for…”

_Apologizing…being nice to me…opening the door for me…paying for my expensive lunch…_

“Thank you for everything, Bobata-sama.” Arata stressed genuinely. Tears had sprung up in the back of his eyes before he could realize how deep his gratitude stretched.

“Sama?” Kazuma repeated with an awkward laugh. “Who am I, the queen of Coney Island?”

“Tanji told us to address all alphas and customers with the term -sama.” The omega said, straightening up.

“But I’m _not_ your customer,” Bobata smiled. “I’m your friend.”

 

Something sharp, powerful, alluring, and very beautiful shot through Arata’s chestbone, giving his entire body a jolt. At that very moment, he caught Bobata’s scent: it was like fresh cologne, all different varieties, mixed with something similar to blood. It was dangerous. It reminded Arata of a vampire, seductive and needing, succulent and savory. His nerves became weak, suddenly drawn to the idea of Bobata Kazuma and all his world had to offer.

“And as your friend,” The alpha started slowly; Tsucchi didn’t know what he was doing until a bit of his skin came in contact with Bobata’s. “I’m lending you this.”

When Arata looked down, there was a wad of money in his tiny left hand; it had to be over $800, judging on how thick the wad was. He thought he was dreaming for a minute, and looked up with a flash of disappointment, thinking the past hour to have been part of that wonderful, satisfying dream. When Bobata was giving him that smile, though…

 

He realized it wasn’t a dream—it was _reality_.

 

“I—I…I can’t…”

“Don’t worry about it, okay?” Bobata hushed lowly, making the omega shut his mouth immediately. The alpha inched a little closer, not wanting anyone else to hear his kind words. “It’s for you. It’s for you _alone_ , not Tanji; you spend it on whatever you need, want, don’t need…consider it a gift, friend to friend.”

Arata could say nothing. Bobata began to back away, throwing his hand out at the street, to which a taxi immediately slammed on the breaks and turned towards him.

“Here—so I know you’re getting home safely.” Kazuma smiled, opening the door. Arata got in wordlessly, the money still clutched in his hand. The alpha shut the door and leaned in the window, looking over Tsucchi’s beautiful face once more. He silently wished he could eat every meal with the soft hearted omega with a big appetite. “I’ll see you tomorrow after the show. No offense, but I don’t think I can sit through one of those again.”

“None…none taken.”

 

Bobata gave him one last smile, then sent the cab driver on his way.

 

“Have a nice day, Arata-kun.”

 

“Yeah,” The omega said slowly, watching Kazuma as the car began to drive. “Bye, Bobata…”

 

_Thank you…thank you so much._

 

~~~-~~~

 

Later that day, at rehearsal, the boys became subject to Tanji Washijo’s snide comments, suggestions and endless corrections on their looks, movements, their outfits, whatever his hooded eyes could land on. Whatever pleasant thing had happened earlier in the day was all but erased from their memories and moods. Whatever little detail the omegas and betas were usually masters at hiding at, Tanji found. Silently, all the boys knew. They _knew_ why he was on so high guard. They _knew_ why he was picking out these little details to perfect and abuse. They had all silently come to the same conclusion, but none dared, nor _wanted_ , to say it out-loud.

They didn’t want it to be true.

And so, the boys remained silent, the tension so thick in the air it was a wonder they couldn’t hear it screaming at them to listen.

 

“Shibayama,” Tanji growled, cutting three-years off the omega’s life. “That skirt needs to be cut one more inch. Didn’t I tell you three-inches the first time?”

“Y-Y-Yes, Tanji-sama…I-I’m sorry.”

“Konoha—stand in his place while he’s getting his skirt fixed.”

Konoha, who had previously been standing to the side watching his friends be pushed around, drug himself off his chair and climbed onto the stage, slouching in his hooded sweatshirt. None of the boys acknowledged his presence, as it was best to put their attention on Tanji and Tanji alone; distractions, like giving each other looks, were on the path to a place dangerous, a place no one had ever been on, a destination no one wanted to go. It was best to stay as far away from that path as possible, a rule the boys followed regliously.

 

And it was tearing Haru apart.

 

 _I hate it here_ , he thought aggressively, heart burning something painfully fierce, watching as the choreographer corrected one of Tadashi’s twirls. _I hate it here. I want to go home. I want a real home, and I don’t want to be afraid of Tanji watching over my back, telling me what I need to do to make myself better for his disgusting customers. I want to eat more, I want to afford more, and I don’t want my friends to be wearing such slutty outfits. I hate it here. I’m uncomfortable. I want to go home…I want my family…_

 

“Takeharu.”

 

The omega froze immediately, and slowly angled his head up to hesitantly make eye contact with Tanji from across the room. His thin, bony finger went up in the air, and it motioned Haru to come to him.

Haru did so, only because he was more afraid of what would happen if he _didn’t_ obey than what would happen if he _did_ obey.

Sluggishly, Takeharu went off the stage and over to his owner, keeping his head bowed respectfully; the unscented alpha made a noise in his throat, signaling Haru to straighten himself up. When he did, Tanji began to walk in a circle around the boy, using his hooded, dark shadowed eyes to stare intently at Haru’s hair. He inserted different colors to the locks inside his mind, trying to pick a shade that would accent his fairly tanned skin, but also didn’t wash out the slight paleness of it. It was a difficult decision, but Tanji had asked the opinion of an expert—and that expert agreed that someone as naturally beautiful as Haru would only stand-out more if he had lighter hair.

 

Tanji stopped in front of Haru.

“I have made my decision concerning your hair.”

The young omega’s breath caught in his throat.

“M…My hair?” He squeaked shakily.

“Mm. The platinum blonde would make you stand-out, enlighten some of your already handsome features…don’t you agree, Haru?”

 

Despite the question mark, Haru knew that wasn’t a question. It didn’t need an answer, because it already had one. The only response the omega could give was a nod—anything opposing this statement meant going down that terrible path, the unspeakable darkness of the yakuza…

It wasn’t just death Haru would be facing; it was _torture_. Mika didn’t have a face by the time Suguru was through with her, and her offense hadn’t even been that bad, in the Delicate Roses’ opinions…running away was short, simple, quiet; Haru talking back would be much, much worse than that. Torture like her punishment was something Haru didn’t think he could handle, because it wouldn’t simply destroy his body, but his heart as well.

 

_But…isn’t that the same as my life right now?_

 

 _If I let Tanji do this to me_ , Haru thought slowly, Washijo’s eyebrows moving an inch at the omega’s silence. _If I let him continue to control me, ruin my image for his own benefit…he’ll win. He’ll always win._

_I don’t want him to w—_

 

The front door of room one of the club _Body Electric_ slammed open, and in came the unspeakable horror himself, Tanji’s go-to hitman, the monster he created, Suguru Daisho.

 

The tension that had been hanging in the air ever since Shibayama received that phone call split wide open, ripping gasps and trembles from every omega and beta in the room. Yuki himself was ten-seconds away from throwing up all over the stage; all of them stumbled backwards, but found their limbs freezing in place when Suguru began strutting towards the group. He was the exact same as the last time they had seen him, a little over a year ago, maybe…the same snake slitted eyes, nothing but pure “I know something you don’t” green shimmering amongst their hue. Those short, high, mischievous eyebrows were silently mocking the boys, along with his thin face that made him the most similar looking to a serpent. His mouth remained half open, half closed, his tongue playfully sticking out like usual from the corner of his thin, seductive lips; as Konoha had been victim to those lips whispering against his ear before, the sight sent a shiver down his spine, in the worst way possible.

Haru himself was the same height as Suguru—but that meant nothing.

Suguru didn’t need to be tall in order to act intimidating; his confident, sneaky personality accomplished that all on its own. His appearance did help, as did his Class 6 rated intelligence, but it was his attitude, really, that allowed him to exploit his own natural strengths, like talking, taunting, sneaking in at the lowest moments to claim the crown. Haru felt a small, tiny comfort knowing that Terushima was a class above Suguru in intelligence, but in the moment, this idea was unable to stop his hands from trembling, as he was the closest to Daisho, not being on the stage anymore.

 

If anything in the world was terrifying, it was being within a foot of Daisho Suguru.

 

The snake-like creature, tiny nose and all, turned his eyes towards Haru, cutting off his breath all together. His expression became even darker, and that quaking, frightening smile crept to his face, as if sharing a private joke with himself.

 

“Takeharu,” Tanji said patiently, bringing everyone’s attention back to their conversation.

Haru tore his eyes away from Suguru’s expectant stare, met by Washijo’s satisfied glare.

“What do you think?”

 

The omega stopped panting; his dark eyes met each of his friends’, finding they were all as depressed and terrified as his. The look wasn’t reassuring at all—it was hopeless. None of them could stop Tanji…not when they knew his hitman, his puppet, the teenager he found and taught manipulation in order for both of them to receive an equal amount of power, Tanji in wealth, Suguru in reputation, could hurt them with so little effort. They were a poisonous pair, a crude mixture of chemicals, obsessed with money and relationships. They had built the Delicate Roses up, added bits and bits together by striking fear of leaving into the omega’s hearts, using their bond against them, especially when there was a rumor or hint that one member was unsatisfied with their life. And Suguru…Suguru was skilled in both manipulation and acting. He was the best at his job because he knew how to smooth-talk, putting him at odds with someone like Terushima and the remainder of Johzenji. He was like the advanced version of a video game. He was like the evolution to simplicity.

 

Haru…if Haru refused…he would be worse than dead.

 

“O…O-kay.”

 

The omegas felt another piece of their delicate hearts break.

 

Suguru waited back as Tanji gave almost a smile, nodding in confirmation. “That is all,” He said shortly. “Return to rehearsal.”

“I have to go to the bathroom!” Yuki cried, running off stage.

“Take five, everyone!” Suguru teased.

“It’s good to have you back, Suguru-san.” Tanji said, shaking the young man’s hand.

“It’s good to be back! Sorry I’m a week late, I got caught uptown, other business ventures…” The snake’s slitted eyes landed on Konoha, who was the only one still standing straight on stage. “Konohaaa! How’s life in Tokyo?! Still kicking around the same stone, huh?”

It was almost comedic how the omegas shrunk to the back of the stage when Suguru jumped up, his thin frame fitting loosely into the black, sleek suit that would have made him handsome, had his entire being not ruined the image. Konoha forced his heart to stop beating, as to prevent more emotional damage; he allowed himself to be kissed on both cheeks by Suguru, even though it felt like being licked by a poisonous snake who was known to latch onto its victims before killing them.

“I’ve been fine…how have you been, Suguru-sama?” Akinori replied with fake calmness and a bitter, sickening smile.

“Fine and dandy—hey…did you get any piercings while I was gone? You’d look sexy with a nose ring, you know…” Suguru playfully ran his slim finger down the bridge of Konoha’s nose, though his sexual intentions were plainly obvious by the sudden shadow in his eyes. “Maybe Tanji here will let you get a bellybutton piercing instead, so you can start wearing crop tops again!”

“It’s almost winter, Suguru-sama.” The omega tried to reply with friendliness. “I’m sure the ring would freeze onto my bellybutton if I wore a crop top outside.”

 

Suguru’s shrill laughter rang through the club, and Shibayama threw-up another course when the noise echoed into the bathroom. Haru himself was beyond words, explanations…they had been waiting for Suguru for a _week_. They waited for a week, expecting him to have shown up when he said, only to be stuck looking over their shoulder every five-minutes for a solid week. Now that he was finally _here_ , in the _Body Electric_ , in _Tokyo_ , where the Delicate Roses resided…it was indescribable. They had all gone through this process before, but with their new secret friendships and forming relationships, their new jobs, their new developments, all the omegas felt like they had something to hide, that they had _everything_ to hide—

 

And those fragile secrets were in terrifying danger of being found out, with the arrival of Daisho Suguru.

 

The snake continued to pester and flirt with Konoha, who had to act as well as professional performers in order to maintain his sanity and cover-up the shadow of their collective secrets. He acted as he always did around Suguru, with hesitant flirts in return, which made Suguru think him to be shy around only him, flattering his already-confident personality. Haru didn’t think he had ever felt lower, knowing that he would have to bleach his dark hair, knowing that Konoha was going to be silently stressed for the remainder of Suguru’s stay, knowing that Shibayama probably wouldn’t be getting any sleep at night, knowing that Arata would probably punish himself and cut off all contact with Bobata, just so Suguru’s senses wouldn’t pick-up on the scent…

Haru watched in hatred and fear as Daisho slickly slunk an arm around Konoha’s waist, lowering his voice to a sultry whisper that made all of them tremble, their omega senses more revolted than aroused. Maybe that was the worst part of seeing their friend be so close was knowing that fact—knowing that despite their hatred of the man…their omega instincts would be drawn to his confidence, his smooth talking, his alpha scent. Being linked to him like that was unimaginable and sickening, and yet, close to being quite true.

 

The Roses could do nothing but sit back and take it, because whether they liked it or not…Tanji Washijo controlled their lives, with the help of a crafty hitman with a snake-like personality.

 

~~~-~~~

 

 _Everyone_ noticed a change in their omega friends that week.

 

Terushima noticed it when he dropped by the apartment complex for his daily talk with Haru on Friday afternoon. The omega came sauntering out of his crowded apartment, head hung low, a pained, forced smile on his lips; he did seem a bit relieved to see Terushima, though his obvious depression hung around more than that honest emotion.

“Hey,” Yuuji said, Haru’s agitated scent too much for him to bear. “Something wrong?”

“Mm…just stress.” He answered quietly. “Lots of stress, actually…but don’t worry about it. Where do you wanna talk tonight?”

“…I don’t care. Wherever you’re comfortable.”

Haru gave a fake laugh, unintentionally injuring Terushima as they walked down the creaking stairs together, side by side, the omega inching closer to the alpha more than usual.

“Let’s take a long time getting there, wherever it is.” Haru said. “I didn’t have time to remember a story today, so I’m trying to think…”

“Take your time. I’m in no rush.”

 

Despite his words, Terushima _was_ in a rush; he had a lot of information to process and give to Akaashi, but that wasn’t the main reason for his slight impatience—he was impatient to know what, or _who_ the hell was causing Haru so much stress. He had an educated guess, of course, after the incident with Yuki and Suguru, but from his knowledge, the bastard hadn’t come to their part of Tokyo yet. Johzenji tracked his flight through Yaku, even waited at the airport in disguise, hoping to catch a glimpse of him, but no one had seen him so far.

If he managed to slip under their noses…they might be in more trouble than they first expected.

In hopes of comforting Takeharu, Yuuji put an arm around his shoulder; the touch lacked sexuality, just a casual, firm kind of aura that ensured every alpha within miles that this omega was not to be trifled with. A rush of that exciting warmth and splashing scent seized Haru’s senses, and he looked over at Terushima with awe. The alpha smiled in return, the sight almost enough to calm Haru down completely.

Upon seeing Yuuji’s earrings, however, he was reminded of the piercing conversation with Suguru the day before…

 

All the while Haru was telling Terushima the story of how he learned to braid using Yachi’s long golden locks in his yellow Ferrari, Yuuji was realizing just how deep his feelings were for the omega when he discovered that he now connected his life’s purpose to avenging both Yachi _and_ Haru as one person.

 

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that both of these souls, so softhearted and excitable, so sweet and caring to everyone around them, had to die. Haru was getting closer and closer to being dead on the inside, a state which Yachi never reached, thankfully, but Haru…he was in danger. He was in a _lot_ of danger, and not just form being associated with someone like Terushima.

“…And after the first time I failed, Yachi decided to show me using my own hair, which, if you remember the picture, was pretty shaggy at that time, wasn’t a difficult task. So she braided a piece of my hair while guiding my hands through the strands, and once I got down the movements, I moved back to her hair.”

Terushima smiled at the thought of Yachi trying to gently teach Haru something as innocent as braiding hair to pass the time. _It’s not fair_ , he told himself. _It’s not fucking fair…_

“…And by the time I finished, Yachi pretty much looked like a thug, what with all the fuzzy braids, some tight, some really loose and messy, like a rat’s nest or something,” Haru laughed, genuinely this time. “So…that’s the story of how Yachi taught me how to braid hair!”

 

Terushima smiled, though it was stalled by his previous thinking mode. Takeharu was just too lovable. And fragile. Definitely fragile…once he finished with his nostalgic story, a chill went over Haru’s body, because he connected Yachi with what he was going through now, and was absolutely horrified at the idea of Yachi ever coming into contact with Suguru. Thank goodness she had passed on before he came into the picture…

 _Speaking of pictures_ , Haru thought, letting the silence fill the space between them. _I could really use a look at that picture from Yachi’s box right now…maybe Terushima will let me go upstairs and get it. It’s in a frame, so the scent is locked in forever, unless someone breaks the glass; if they do, I can assure them that their punishment will be far worse than anything they could ever imagine._

_Ha. As if I could speak like a yakuza member._

_Maybe…maybe Terushima will let me look inside Yachi’s box…if I act desperate enough, which shouldn’t be hard…m—_

 

Unknown to Haru, he had shifted closer to the elbow rest separating him from Yuuji, unconsciously seeking his warmth and comfort. Terushima noticed immediately, having been staring at the omega for quite some time, ever since he began his story for the night; his eyes flickered down to where Haru was hugging himself, the thin fall coat doing practically nothing to shield him from the coldness Suguru had inflicted onto his poor soul.

“Haru,” Yuuji said. The boy looked over at him, sensing a change of tone. “Can I tell you something without you thinking I’m a paranoid hormonal alpha?”

Haru giggled a reassurance, and Terushima adjusted himself so that his knee was resting on the cupholder, the rest of his body leaning over the elbow rest so that he was face to face with the omega. He confidently put a hand on Haru’s shoulder, dangerously close to the scent glands on his neck.

“I’m really into you,” Yuuji began seriously, his eyes never leaving Haru’s both comforting and making the omega nervous. “I owe you a hell of a lot for helping me find closure in Yachi’s death, for finding out what happened to her, and for sharing stories like this with me about her life after she was taken from me. I don’t like you just because of that, though…now, I never thought I’d ever find a person who made me want to settle for one person, but sometimes, around you, I just can’t help but think that way, you know? …So…I’m coming to your show tonight.”

Haru’s heart stopped beating.

“But I’m not going to be watching you perform,” Terushima continued to explain. “I’m going there to protect you.”

 

 _Protect…protect me?_ Haru thought, heart starting up again. _Oh my gosh! Terushima’s going to be my knight!_

 

“P-Protect me?!” Takeharu replied excitedly, grabbing onto Terushima’s hand. “From what?!”

After taking a second to relax his instincts, Haru’s touch have sent a shocking, soothing surge through his veins, Yuuji replied.

“From anything that would ever cause you harm or distress.”

 

The last description caught Haru’s attention. Distress…distress…what Yuuji was basically saying was…he was going to protect Haru…from _Tanji Washijo_.

 

“Yuuji?!” Haru cried, stress overcoming his judgement. “Can I please hug you?”

“Duh!”

Haru threw himself forward into Terushima’s awaiting arms, burying himself in that lovely scent, overcome with incomprehensible emotion.

“I’m the one who should be grateful,” Haru whined into Yuuji’s shoulder, holding onto his suit tightly. “You and your sister are both so nice to me…”

Another jolt shot through Terushima’s heart, and he wondered how he was ever going to survive with this kid in his life. He wasn’t able to reply with words, so he just hugged the omega further into his chest, as far as the awkward angle would allow. As he opened his mouth, though he was sure nothing but random noises would spit out, a foreign, strange aroma rushed against his face in one big wave. It took him longer than it should have for him to figure out what this scent was, his mind clouded over with desire and admiration.

 

Haru’s _scent_. Haru was _scenting him_.

 

Yuuji gasped, and immediately turned his face downwards, molding his nose into the nape of Haru’s neck, where the aroma was at its strongest, eliciting a similar sound from the omega. It was no wonder the kid had stalkers…his taste, his scent was absolutely _enthralling_ , utterly _delicious_ , and overwhelmingly sweet with the combination of fresh rose petals, the warmest chocolate fudge _imaginable_ , rich and creamy, filling to the most extreme level. Terushima, had he been able to think clearly, would say that he could never eat a regular meal again, after having inhaled this beautiful aura who was Takeharu Futamata. The omega allowed him this pleasure for a good five-minutes, stuck in his own world of pleasure and comfort, stuck between Terushima’s orange splash and his alpha affects that seemed to be calming Haru down and riling him up at the same time. When he was embraced by Yuuji like this, he couldn’t imagine anyone ever being able to hurt him. He couldn’t imagine that Suguru would be able to defeat someone so strong-willed, so playful, so un-tameable, so… _into_ Haru.

Who dare unleash the wrath of Terushima Yuuji by injuring his omega?

 

Yuuji’s face was lost in between Haru’s shoulder and neck, and he didn’t release even an inch of the omega as he continued to let the scent merge into his very soul, make a permanent mark on his heart. God…he never wanted to let Haru go. He wanted to stay in his embrace forever and forever, sex or no sex, love or no love, though the latter was a definite possibility, with where their relationship was headed…and amazingly, Terushima didn’t care. The only love he had ever thought about was Yachi’s, but this one…this one seemed equal. It was just as strong, just as friendly, just as dependent.

The thought both thrilled and scared him a little bit.

 

The only thing that could have ripped Terushima apart from Haru in that moment was…well, nothing. Both boys waited until Yuuji’s senses had collected enough evidence to satisfy his interest for maybe an hour; Terushima reluctantly pried himself off Haru, who was almost suffocating in the alpha’s shoulder, though by his own admission. They looked at each other, star-struck, dazed, and very much infatuated.

“Will you watch tonight?” Takeharu asked suddenly, breathlessly. “I…I think if you watched, I wouldn’t feel so bad, because then I could pretend…I don’t know, but…I think it would be better, maybe, unless—unless the scent’s too strong, and you don’t think you can control yourself, or—”

“Yes.” Terushima practically growled, tightening his grip. “I’ll watch for you. If it’ll help you, do whatever you want. Pretend you’re dancing for me, I don’t care—as long as it helps, you do whatever you need to. Okay, Haru? Do you understand? Understand?”

Haru nodded rapidly, still recovering from the pure assurance that was in Yuuji’s tone. It was an _alpha_ tone. One they used for their mates, usually…

“You’d better go,” Terushima forced himself to say. “Or else I might spend the rest of my days scenting you.”

“That wouldn’t be good,” Haru giggled.

“No—it would be _too_ good. That’s the problem.” Yuuji replied, almost sane enough to crack a grin. He used what little self-restraint he had left and brought the omega forward to nuzzle his cheek quickly, a little parting gift until they saw each other again. “I’ll escort you and your friends to the club tonight…I’ll pick you up. Okay?”

 

Haru nodded, his ability to speak vanishing.

 

“Be careful.” Yuuji stressed, breaking them apart. “ _Promise_ me you’ll be careful.”

Haru nodded rapidly, not wanting to release his hold on Terushima’s wrists.

The alpha released a disappointed sigh, reluctantly sliding Haru’s slim hands off his wrists, but the situation was turned around when Haru sneakily used the new arrangement to hold hands with Terushima, making his breath catch in his throat.

“Hey Terushima,” Takeharu said. “You know something?”

“…What?” He whispered, looking at the omega.

“…I’m taller than you.”

 

The little comment effectively snapped them (mostly) out of their funk, allowing them to release each other long enough so Haru could stumble his way out of the car. Terushima immediately rolled the window down, not wanting the omega ( _his_ omega?) out of his sight for long.

 

“Don’t tell anyone. I don’t want them noticing that the subject of my affections has a height advantage.”

“Konoha already noticed.”

“Damnit.”

Haru laughed again, but the sound now had a much deeper meaning to Yuuji than before. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say he and Takeharu had accidently bonded with each other. The omega gave him a fond look, that tiny, joyful smile lighting up his expression. Before Terushima’s imagination could get the best of him, he shooed the pesky boy away.

“See you later. And…thanks. For the story. And…yeah.”

“Wow! Did I make Terushima-kun dizzy with adoration?”

“Shut up!”

 

Haru laughed again, bouncing away from the car blindly, proving his statement to be true when he found Yuuji’s eyes trailing after him even when he entered the apartment complex. When Haru gave him an adorable little farewell wave, Terushima felt heat rush to his cheeks.

_Thank goodness my windows are tinted._

Poor pining Yuuji was given no time to be spent daydreaming over his omega “friend”; the phone installed in his car for emergencies only began ringing, signaling that Bobata was calling, since he was the only one who knew the number. With an absent mind, Terushima picked it up, not bothering to say hello—within a matter of seconds, his ecstasy was halted.

 

“Terushima,” Kazuma hurried. “Rintaro just saw Tanji Washijo outside the Body Electric club—and Daisho Suguru was with him.”

 

~~~-~~~

 

Yaku had been suffering through the shockwaves of Suguru’s existence ever since that phone call.

 

The pair had been stressed beyond belief since that day, affecting Shibayama’s health more than anything. He never ate at work, never ate anything Yaku bought unless he insisted, but even then, Yuki looked like he was going to be sick. Sometimes Lev would be able to comfort him, sometimes keeping himself busy was enough to distract from his life, but…the week had been living hell at Traveling Cats. Yuki had been fighting between quitting, staying home sick, or sucking it up and going to work, despite Tanji’s obvious disapproval if he ever found out—each time, Shibayama found himself shockingly choosing the final option, going to work stressed, frazzled, and paranoid. He really didn’t want to inflict this onto Yaku, who was really nice to him, despite his obvious cowardness and now unpleasant personality, and besides…this was a job he really liked. He must have loved it, in fact, for his loyalty to Yaku to stretch so far as disobeying Tanji when SUGURU, of all people, was in town.

Did that mean something even deeper?

There was no time to think about it. Shibayama needed some stress relief, and he needed it now; his plan, after work hours were done, was to ask Yaku to accompany him to the shelter, so that his boss could see that the old Shibayama still existed. After all the anxiety, all the throwing-up, all the depressing ideas and plans…Yuki had gone to work on Friday, breaking one of Tanji’s rules for the second week in a row.

 

 _Shibayama, the rule breaker—go_ figure, he thought to himself, swaying back and forth on his feet in front of Yaku’s office. _Maybe Yaku will like this dangerous side of me…but I would never tell him about my “other” job…that would crush me. I don’t need anymore crushing. Despite my stress level being off the charts, right now, I’m feeling pretty brave, which is weird, because I’m usually not confident, but I guess I always try my best, which is where this is coming from. Cool!_

 

Before he could back out, Yuki knocked timidly on Yaku’s door.

 

“Come in!”

The dark-haired omega stuck his head inside, seeing that Morisuke was just filing up the day’s work. His expression didn’t change when he saw Yuki, which was a good sign.

“What’s up, Shibayama?”

“Oh, nothing…I was just telling you that I signed out for the day.” Yuki said, fiddling with his shirt. “Are you done for the day?”

“Yup; just sticking these files away for later. Do you want a ride home?”

“Actually, I…I was going to go over to the shelter. The animal shelter. For a while, at least…uh—you’re welcomed to join me, if you’re not too busy, that is. If you want to.”

Yaku didn’t hesitate, as this was the first time in a week Shibayama had been close to his normal self.

“Yeah! I’d love that!”

“Oh, well…okay!” _Did I have to squeak? This week really stinks…_ “Let’s…let’s go, then.”

 

Yaku smiled at the omega’s nervousness; even though it had been the cause of his own stressful week, the omega’s shy personality was worth being giddy over. The pair collected their coats and headed out onto the streets, Yuki hurrying more than usual, though his fear was numb by now…being next to Morisuke had that affect, he found out. During their lengthy walk, neither of them prompted conversation; the clatter around the streets offered enough background sound where nothing between them was awkward, except the occasion when Yuki practically tripped over his own shoes and bulldozed Yaku’s legs…

 _I don’t think I’ve ever been this stressed_ , Shibayama thought quietly. _It’s exhausting me…this walk seems longer than usual. Maybe that’s because I can’t really be myself and cry like I want to. Then again, I’m sick of crying. Crying makes me feel even worse. Yaku-san’s already seen me crying once…_

Yuki let out a quiet sigh, though his companion heard him.

 

_Well, if all else fails, I’ve have my cats._

 

The shelter was still open for another hour, so the omega led Morisuke through the hallways, past the ER, and towards the cat room. There were about thirty stray cats and kittens in there, and was probably Yuki’s favorite room to be in; it was a little sad seeing them all caged up like that, but he knew this was a better place than where they were before. His mood automatically lifted, if only a bit, as he went straight for the small stray he had grown to love.

“Who’s this?” Yaku asked, watching as Shibayama took the calico spotted cat out, setting it onto the main table.

“This is Coffee; he’s a calico.”

“He’s so…cute! Can I pet him?”

Pleasantly surprised, Yuki nodded, and Yaku immediately began to stroke the cat’s chin, making it close its eyes in comfort.

“Wow…you’re so much nicer than Lev. He’s so desperate for attention, it’s hard to get him to sit still like this.”

“Haha.”

Noticing his laugh sounded mocking, Yuki shook his head at himself and tried to think of something positive.

“This one reminds me of my imaginary cat.” Yuki prompted, stroking the calico’s fur lovingly. His finger accidently brushed against Morisuke’s, though he barely noticed. The tan haired boy did, however, and needed a second to relax before replying.

“Imaginary cat?” Yaku repeated.

“Oh yeah! When I was young, we uh—couldn’t afford a cat…” _Well, that’s not a total lie_ … “So I had an imaginary one named Jimin. He was a calico, too, except he was fluffier; I even took him for imaginary _walks_ sometimes. As silly as it sounds, I usually have to take a moment to remember that Jimin wasn’t a real cat, because I did so many things with him in my mind, like sleeping, eating…pretty much everything I did as a kid involved Jimin.” _Jimin was the only well-fed creature in that alleyway…_ “I guess the idea of him kind of faded out as I got older, when I began volunteering here and stuff…but I still think about him when I feed this little guy.” Shibayama sighed lightly. “He was a nice cat.”

 

The silence Yuki expected was abruptly thrown out the window when Yaku planted a quick kiss to his cheek.

 

Shibayama would have stumbled backwards, had his limbs been working correctly; instead, he turned to stare at the alpha with huge eyes, his left hand slowly coming up to touch the spot Yaku’s warm lips had just touched. The pressure was soft, delicate, even, and yet, the effects lingered around with severity—butterflies began to fly in Yuki’s stomach, the week’s past experience making him think he was about to throw-up again. The sickness never came, however, and he realized that Yaku looked just as shocked as he did, mouth open and unspeaking. Part of this was contributed to the taste of Shibayama, which his senses had picked-up on from the gentle contact.

 

Only one explanation came to Yuki’s mind, so he spoke it.

 

“What…what do you want from me, Yaku-san?” Shibayama asked softly. There were no obvious scents of arousal or mischief in his boss’s scent, but one can never be too sure. For all he knew, he had brought this upon himself by inviting Yaku to an isolated room with no witnesses aside from thirty stray cats.

Morisuke closed his mouth, then opened it again, a simple answer being spoken right from his heart.

 

“Just…for you to be in my life.” He said honestly, swallowing nervously. “And Lev’s.”

 

Shibayama’s eyes, if possible, widened even more, though the one most surprised here was Yaku; how was he supposed to respond when someone as adorable and precious as Yuki was standing there, cooing a cat, telling him about how when he was a kid, he had to have an _imaginary_ cat because he couldn’t afford one in real life? Even when he knew it was partly a lie, Morisuke couldn’t believe how much of a tear-jerker that had been. He didn’t want to cry in front of Yuki, so he did the next best thing his emotions were feeling—he _kissed_ him.

And he very much wanted to do it again.

Yuki, meanwhile, was so shocked from the idea of someone wanting to be near him, involved in his life that he had almost ceased to breathe; _what?_ He thought wildly, forgetting about the cat they had taken out. _WHAT? Yaku-san…wants…wants to be…with me? Near me? He just said…did he just say that? Am I hallucinating? No, no…it can’t be true. But…he said it. I heard him! Even after this terrible week, he has the nerve to say he wants me?_

_What on earth is happening?!_

 

“O-Oh, well…I…I don’t know…”

“I don’t know where that came from,” Yaku tried to explain, blushing furiously. “I just…I guess I was just holding in my real feelings for these past few weeks, and…seeing you like this…like your normal self…just…made me want to kiss you, I guess. I’m sorry if I over-stepped any boundaries; I really wasn’t planning on doing anything, I just…”

“It was nice,” Shibayama said, struggling as much as Morisuke was. “I mean! Uh—it was—it was nice, really nice, and…I-I don’t know what you meant by being in your life, and again, I’m sorry about the past week, and…I…”

He gave a huff of exasperation at himself, making Yaku’s hands twitch as his sides.

“Can…can I just think about it?”

“Yeah! Yeah, of course! I…I still don’t know what I meant by it, so I’ll have to do some thinking too.” Yaku rambled nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. “So…would you like a ride home? I think the awkwardness will have evaporated some by the time we get back to the agency, don’t you agree?”

 

Shibayama managed a loose giggle at their stumblings, and after that, everything seemed okay.

 

 _Man, I’m such a freak!_ Yaku berated himself silently, walking along side Yuki as they strolled back to the agency. _Kissing him on the cheek…he could have had a heart attack! He’s very stressed and anxious! Man…I would have been responsible for killing my first non-yakuza employee—what kind of bastard am I?_

“Do you think Lev managed to escape while we were gone?” The omega asked with a light smile.

“Pf…probably. He doesn’t listen very well—that’s why we need you in our lives. He needs to be taught listening skills, and I need to be taught patience.”

Shibayama giggled to himself, his clothed arm brushing against Yaku’s.

“I’m sure you’re both not as bad as you say…cats can learn a lot if you know how to teach them. Some people are like that, too.”

“Well…” Morisuke started, pleased that he hadn’t completely messed-up their friendship. “I look forward to learning from you, then, Shibayama-kun.”

 

Yuki smiled again, and out of character, inched his hand a little further out on his next arm swing, brushing the back of his hand against Yaku’s warm one. Both of them shivered from the short contact, glancing over at each other shyly, wondering if the other noticed. The pair smiled under the collars of their coats when they saw the other’s gaze. Yuki wanted to know what it was like to be kissed by an alpha again, though he was far too shy to ask for that so early in their building relationship…but he did come to one startling, comforting conclusion that made him walk closer to the alpha.

 

If there was someone in this world who could make him forget about Suguru, Shibayama wanted to be with them every hour of every day.

 

~~~-~~~

 

Friday night in Tokyo is a sight to see; this was even more true on this particular night, when the Delicate Roses stepped out of their shitty apartment complex, greeted by Terushima and a black shining limo.

 

They were all dressed nicely, despite the fact that they wouldn’t be wearing those outfits at the club; Tanji liked to torture them like that. Right now, Terushima didn’t mind too much, although he made a mental note to keep his alpha instincts in check—if he could.

Haru’s outfit wasn’t exactly revealing, but after the afternoon incident…well; it didn’t take a lot of skin showing for Yuuji to get a little excited. He smiled when he saw him, making sure to keep his eyes up, which wasn’t that hard, considering how attractive Haru’s greeting smile was.

“Hey Terushima! Is this limo for us?!”

“Hell yeah! I figured you wouldn’t wanna be cramped in my Ferrari the entire ride, so I rented this baby; I’m all about style, you know.”

Haru looked at the limo with wide eyes, amazed at something so simple, but so convenient. Terushima smirked at his response, wondering how he would react when Yuuji began giving him gifts personalized for him alone. The omega came forward first, followed by his friends, who all gave the car a confused look, as if they couldn’t believe it was for them.

 

“Pile in, boys!”

 

“I call a window seat!” Konoha said, heeling himself over to the first door. Yuki followed with a light giggle, and they all followed each other into the car, with the exception of Haru, who was stopped by Terushima.

 

Turning to the alpha in question, Haru looked to where Yuuji had lightly grabbed onto his wrist.

“Wanna ride in the front with me? Or would that be too suspicious for Tanji’s liking?” He asked.

“Well…I do like pranks…”

Yuuji let out his cackling laugh and tugged Haru forward to the front of the limo, right behind the driver’s area; he let Haru go first, then slid in after him, sitting so close their thighs were pressed together. They sat there for a few seconds, smiling at each other, and after Yuuji told the driver to get going, began a casual conversation about their night.

“So,” The alpha began, putting his arm on the seat behind Takeharu. “How was the rest of your day, Haru?”

“Good! Shibayama didn’t throw-up his dinner tonight.”

“He’s been throwing-up his dinner every night?”

“Yeah…he does that when he’s really stressed about something.”

“And you?” Terushima asked in concern. “What do you do when you’re really stressed about something?”

“I don’t know…make myself even more stressed.” Haru laughed, casually scooting his right arm closer to the alpha. “I listen to Lana Del Rey, long for unhealthy snacks, and cuddle and scent-smell with Shibayama and the rest of the gang.”

“Maybe I can help you next time,” Terushima offered happily. “I know we’ve only ‘done it’ once, but…”

“Don’t say ‘done it’!” Haru laughed loudly.

“Why not?”

“Because you know why! Just—just close your mouth.” He instructed, putting his palm over Yuuji’s grin. “There; now stay quiet until we get to the club.”

“Ah cnt sday quiet!”

 

Even though the ride to _Body Electric_ was pleasant, the arrival was anything but.

 

A few blocks away, the omegas seemed to change personalities, including Haru; he became quieter, a bit sullen, and leaned away from Terushima, even though he wanted to be closer to him than ever, wanted him to protect him from danger, he knew that the less alpha scent lingering around him, the better. Suguru didn’t need an actual secret to hold over him. The other omegas were in danger, too; Yuki had been around Yaku at work, Konoha had talked to Komi on the streets again…

For the first time in their lives, the omegas were in trouble because of something they did.

When the limo driver parked on the curb, Terushima turned to look at Haru, noting his worried expression, though he attempted to hide it with a smile so innocent Yuuji would have been convinced, had he been anyone else.

 

“Thanks for the ride, Terushima! Can I call you Yuuji sometimes? You don’t look like a Yuuji, but if you want, I can start calling you that.”

“Let’s stick with Terushima in public. It’s flashier.”

“It means shining island, so yeah.”

“Oh?” The alpha grinned. “You know what my name means? What does Yuuji mean?”

“Playful child.” Haru grinned back. “I like that one the best.”

Terushima gave a genuine smile, and contented himself with brushing a stray dark strand from Haru’s forehead, an act that both pained and complimented the omega.

 

“I’ll be in the crowd,” Yuuji reminded him. “Don’t forget about me.”

“Trust me,” Takeharu mumbled to himself. “I won’t.”

 

The Delicate Roses and Terushima stepped out of the limo together, met by a line already forming in front of the club, even though it was early. Yuuji was just about to walk Haru and his friends inside when suddenly, all of their scents collided into one fear-filled gust. He almost asked what the hell happened, but a part of him already knew. A slim young man about one-inch taller than Terushima came sauntering down the sidewalk, past the line, and Yuuji understood.

 

There was the man himself—Suguru Daisho, omega on each arm, strolling up to the club like he owned the joint. He had probably told his little friends he half-owned it, which wasn’t a lie; Terushima didn’t really care about that right now. Within a quick second-analysis, he determined that he didn’t like Suguru.

He didn’t like him one bit.

There was just something about him…sure, his confidence and sly appearance were cause for concern, but Yuuji had never been one to be intimidated by even the scariest alpha. Maybe it was his snake face, his snake eyes, dark with nothing but secrets, cockiness, fake politeness. It was probably just his entire existence that made Terushima feel so competitive, so proud of his own image, which he immediately compared to Suguru’s, trying to determine who would win if they were to fight.

 

When their eyes met, Haru swore it caused a fire to ignite in a nearby alleyway.

 

There was a lull in the world as these two fiery souls evaluated each other, up and down, through and through; neither wavered their gazes, feeling the challenging aura around the other, their instincts refusing to back away or be intimidated. Suguru’s snake lips turned into a sly smile when he realized that Terushima was watching him just as much as he was watching him, the tip of his tongue peeking out. It was both terrifying and comforting to witness this showdown; Takeharu and the others were impressed that someone, _someone_ in this world was able to return that expression, to stand-up to someone so crafty and manipulative…it gave them a small bit of hope.

 

Terushima gave Suguru the same fake smile in return, making sure his tongue ring was showing loud and proud.

 

_If it’s acting he wants…it’s acting he’ll get._

 

“Hello boys!” Daisho greeted, strolling over to the group. Ennoshita made sure he hid Tadashi as well as he could, although the boy was a good length taller than him. “Who’s your alpha friend? I don’t believe we’ve met before.”

“Terushima Yuuji.” The blonde pronounced proudly, immediately sticking his hand out and walking forward. “And you are?”

“Suguru Daisho.” He answered smoothly, retracting his hand from one of his omega’s sides to shake Yuuji’s hand. “Surely you’re affiliated with someone in Tokyo…”

Terushima didn’t miss a beat.

“Fukurodani’s second branch, Johzenji.”

“Ahhh Fukurodani! Good guys over there…but we’ll talk more about that later.” Suguru said. His silent evaluation of Terushima was still in process. “How is it that you came to be with this great group of omegas? I’m jealous! Yours are much more experienced than mine…though, it’ll probably cost you a pretty penny to have _all_ of them to yourself, Terushima-kun. I’m sure it’s worth it, and I’m in no position to judge! You’re a lucky man, Yuuji.”

 

If that statement didn’t piss Terushima off, _nothing_ could.

 

Yuuji was a good sport, however; he had never been so insulted in his entire life, and yet, his immediate reaction was not to bash Suguru’s head in. He felt Haru next to him. He could feel the fear ooze off the rest of the omegas around them. Fighting was not the best way to defeat Suguru and Tanji, whatever their relationship may have been. No…the best way to worm his way into their destruction was by becoming friends with Suguru.

As much as it would pain Haru, Terushima was going to do just that.

 

“Damn right!” Yuuji smiled, giving Takeharu a playful nudge. “Now come on—I want this night to go fast so I can maybe talk Tanji-sama into lending Haru-chan for me more than an hour. Maybe we can come up with something together, if that’s okay with you, new friend.”

Suguru grinned, pulling both of his omegas back to his side.

“I like the sound of that!”

 

As the group walked their way into the club, Terushima pushed a tiny button on the inside of his suit sleeve, alerting the rest of the Johzenji forces to his location. He wasn’t sure he could trust himself being alone around Suguru. With all the things he had to do, including helping Haru get through his performance, collecting information on Suguru, along with Tanji, all while acting as if he wasn’t doing any of the above, he was going to need some help.

 

This was going to be a long night—

 

Terushima reminded himself of Yachi, Takeharu, took a deep breath, and entered the club.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update, kids! Worked a lot of full days and spent my free day writing an Iwaoi oneshot....which I don't regret, but sorry!


	10. Greetings From Bel Air

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Terushima hangs with Suguru...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Although I'm not a fan of rushed fanfics, I'm trying to get this one done in the next week so I can start my Halloween IWAOI fic, which will be updated every week of October, per the fic's time period. Do not fear, Iwa-chan is here!

Terushima stayed with Suguru the entire performance.

 

Did he want to do it? Yes and no. Yuuji loved a good mystery, but when he was hanging around someone who may or may not have been involved in Tanji’s kidnapping of his younger sister…well—it wasn’t exactly the best company. He hated Suguru for whatever effect he had on the Roses, and he hated his flamboyant attitude towards everything; Suguru became serious at times, whenever Terushima brought up methods of pickpocketing, beating someone up, etc. etc., but overall, Yuuji found him to be a very suspicious person. No information was given unless Daisho was making it his point to tell Terushima certain facts, and every word spoken to his omega companions was arrogant and had double-meaning.

Thankfully, Johzenji arrived at Body Electric, and provided enough background sound for the night to become a little disorted.

All the while, Yuuji was using his best skill (talking) to get Suguru distracted enough to where he would begin to carelessly give information out. He only had one tiny drink so far, which was disappointing to Johzenji, whose work would have been made much easier had Suguru been a typical young yakuza member. They kept their cool, however, and remained separated the entire night, keeping an eye on Terushima and the hitman as they sat together at a table for the Fan Show. Tonight was a special performance, apparently in honor of Suguru’s arrival, and Tanji spread the word that there would be three shows: along with the FS, there would be an Umbrella Show, and as always, the grand finale of the Japanese Fashion Show.

 

Terushima was not looking forward to sitting through a strip show with Suguru.

 

 _Make small talk_ , the alpha reminded himself, eyeing the other slick alpha beside him. _Keep being charming. It’s one of your best qualities. Lay it on thick, but don’t be too arrogant, but also don’t let him think he’s better than you. Let him think you’re so equal that you have to become instant friends._

“So, Suguru-kun!” Terushima began casually as they waited for the Fan Show to start. “Are you amongst the ranks of young punks in this beautiful yakuza world, or are you one of those old sons of bitches who spend their money on facials to make themselves _look_ like young punks?”

“Haha! Oh no—I’m as young and handsome as they come,” Daisho grinned slyly. “This is completely natural, 100% young punk, twenty-four years old. And you, Terushima-kun?”

“Same, except a twenty-three year old punk.” Yuuji smiled, putting his hands behind his head coolly. “I thought the piercings would make that obvious enough.”

Daisho was starting to like Terushima a little bit; he seemed to be a fun guy, which was exactly the response Yuuji wanted.

“I suppose I should have noticed how slick you were…all apologies aside, your piercings are _bad-ass_!”

 

Terushima gave a loud laugh that sounded so real Bobata had to look over to see if his friend had turned to the dark side; Yuuji ordered a drink for that compliment, making sure to stick his tongue out far enough where Daisho would be amused, maybe a little even intrigued by his talent. _He’s probably thinking we can rule the world together_ , Terushima thought to himself, watching Suguru appraise him silently as he took his own shot. _Become a dark duo who terrorizes Tokyo together, snatching omegas for their own, drinking until dawn, riding in the summer breeze…_

_He probably thinks I’m his national anthem._

“Tell me, Terushima,” The nicely dressed alpha prompted, his free hand playing with his glass as he sat back in his chair, all but ignoring the omegas he brought with. “Where are you from? Surely someone as spunky as you can’t be from Tokyo; all the punks I know from here don’t know how to have a bit of fun, and believe me when I say, Terushima, you seem like a lot of fun.”

“Thanks! I’m originally from Johzenji.” _Might as well tell the truth_. “But I haven’t been back there in years…too boring for my taste, you know? Tokyo’s got more action, and a hell of lot more dough, if you know what I mean. Does someone as free-falling as you have an origin? From what I’ve heard, you haven’t been back here in what…ten months, or something?”

 

Suguru’s eyes lit up; Yuuji had been waiting for a spark of excitement like that for a good hour. To get a man talking, all you have to do is ask that one little question…

 

“I’m from Nohebi; it’s a decent town, not full of much variety, though…I left there when I was about fourteen, came to Tokyo in pursuit of anything and everything—you know how teenagers can be.” The snake laughed, his slitted eyes squeezing shut.

“Were you one of those lucky bastards who found luck right away?!”

“Of course! Tanji and I go way back; it wasn’t hard to become associated with him, what with his successful history and connection to other groups in Tokyo. Are you affiliated with him at all?”

“I just met him a few weeks ago. Sorry, this is kind of a dumb question, but…you don’t just work specially for him, do you? I mean, I’ve heard of some of the jobs you’ve done all the way on the other side of Tokyo…”

Suguru’s popularity as a hitman was indisputable; Date Tech, famous for its casinos and gambling, paid him to whack people who didn’t pay their debts, Aobajosai used him for inside job hits, their own members, usually, and Nohebi even hired their own homeboy for a few murders every now and then. He was practically a celebrity amongst the yakuza, which was what pissed Terushima off so much, because Suguru _knew_ this was true.

“I work for whoever’s willing to pay me a petty price.”

Yuuji gave a forced smile, though it looked natural, and turned to glance at the stage, seeing that the lights had been turned down around their table, signaling the start of the show.

“You’ve seen this before?” Suguru asked eagerly, leaning forward.

“Yeah; those omegas Tanji-sama has sure know how to move.”

“Magnificent. I can expect to get my money’s worth, then? By the way, are you really planning on having all of those pretty bodies to yourself? I know Johzenji is highly-affiliated with Fukurodani as their leader, but I wasn’t aware that you had that kind of money! I also didn’t think Tanji would allow something like that amongst his Roses.”

 

Terushima had to remember Yachi’s face in order to keep calm.

 

“Well, I sure as hell don’t get paid as much as you.” He scoffed, pretending to be upset with Akaashi and the rest of the Fukurodani organization. “Although from what I go through to get the job done sometimes, I think I deserve about that much…I think I’ll just be hiring Arata after the show. Maybe for the whole night, even, depending on if his skills are as good as his reputation insists.”

“If you want experience, go to Konoha first; I’m sure he’d be more than willing to indulge in whatever fantasies you have.”

Something about the knowing laugh Suguru gave after that statement made Terushima’s hair stand on end. He ignored it, for now, and acted like a little kid in a candy store when the three omegas came onto the stage.

 

Tonight, the boys were all wearing different kimonos, ones that were sluttier, more exposed; their fans were see-through, offering the audience the just right amount of exposure to the flesh of their chest, bare from how deep the cut in the kimono was. Haru’s was blood red, thin, stuck to his skin from the body oil the makeup artist had slicked onto him, per Tanji’s order; his dark eye makeup was fierce, seductive, enough to make a lot of men in the audience grow obvious hard-ons. Terushima was not one of those men.

Now that there was a serious connection between the alpha and the omega…Haru didn’t just seem sexy. It was something strangely more than that. Yes, his outfit and movements were intimately appealing, but…Terushima couldn’t help but note how beautiful Haru’s legs were, all long and lanky, still looking a bit clumsy in his youth, like a baby deer. Yuuji was proud. Proud that he knew Takeharu on such a deep level, proud that this boy was not only a talented dancer, but a spunky, giggly friend, someone who loved as hard as he could, cherished his companions, held onto their memory as if they were still right beside him.

 

Although Terushima himself didn’t realize it, this was the exact moment in which he fell in love with Haru.

 

Takeharu himself made it his goal to not look anyone in the eyes; hearing Suguru’s voice so close to the stage was enough to make him keep this promise to himself, and he focused on trying to make his feet move as naturally as the rest of his body did. Out of all the provocative outfits Tanji had ever made them wear, these were the most insulting, both to the Japanese culture, and to the omegas. Haru hated his kimono the worst, and wondered if he would ever get to wear a normal version of the wrap, in a different universe, lightyears away from Tanji and his hitman.

 _This isn’t good_ , Haru thought in a panic, dipping down to the ground. _I’m starting to freak out…I’ve been under too much stress lately, which is weird, because I don’t usually get stressed, and with what happened with Terushima-kun, I thought I would be okay…_

_Terushima. Terushima’s here._

 

True to his playful, daring personality, Haru took a chance, and glanced into the audience.

 

His eyes locked with Yuuji’s almost by magic, trapping him inside their yellowish glow, their playful demeanor and teasing energy. Haru only had a short moment to look, but he caught all of Terushima’s expression, noting that his frozen gaze, impenetrable focus, and his proud, admiring stare almost gave off a… _reverent_ feeling. Never in all of his abuse had Haru been given such a respectful look. He had never been given a compliment that came even remotely close to what Terushima was giving him now. Haru was sure all the compliments in the world wouldn’t have the effect of Yuuji’s gaze.

 

This was enough to make him smile, half of it hidden behind his fan, which made the crowd cheer wildly. Terushima’s silent grin was more than enough to help Haru get through the Fan Show.

 

 

Once the first show had finished, Bobata was on the move, darting around people to get to Arata, who was just starting to make his rounds around the company in the next show room, luring potential customers with his perfume and lewd body swaying. Before he could even speak to one of his usual clients, someone came rushing up behind him; someone with a nice smell, familiar movements, and a greeting that could only be Bobata.

Arata turned a little bit, seeing Kazuma’s eager, smug expression looking at him expectantly.

 

“Care for some company, Arata-kun?”

 

The tan-haired omega gave Bobata his best (worst) smile, and Kazuma slid the nearest chair back for him. Tsucchi took his seat with a confused heart, silently panicking over the fact that he would have to act like a slut around the alpha again, since Tanji was probably watching from a nearby corner, making sure he and Konoha were doing their jobs correctly. Arata started the evening thinking the worst case scenario would be Konoha ended-up with Suguru for the night, but now that Bobata was here _again_ …

“How’s your night so far?” Tsucchi asked, leaning over on the table to be closer to Kazuma.

“Fine, fine; how’s yours?”

“Mm…it’s okay…but I’ve been…what would you call it…very _lonely_ lately.”

Bobata had already understood that when he approached Arata, he wouldn’t be speaking to Arata, but the prostitute Arata, who was the exact opposite of real Arata, but it was still shocking seeing such a change in the soft-hearted boy.

“…Oh?”

“Do you ever get lonely?” Tsucchi asked, his eyes wide and dark with fake innocence. “Especially on nights like this, when everyone seems to have someone except you?...”

“I’m not into what solution you’re suggesting, but yeah; I do feel that way sometimes.”

 

Arata wanted to scowl, but how could he, when Bobata always said what he wanted to hear?

 

The omega leaned back, a whiff of anger scenting off him. He crossed his arms like a child, turning to watch the stage as Shibayama spun his umbrella obscenely, giving an innocent “Oops!” as the routine called for.

“Bobata,” Arata said quietly, though in an almost fierce tone. “I can’t help my job, and I please ask that you stay away from me so I can do what I have to do. Tanji will be upset if I spend the entire night talking to you, only for no profit to be had in the morning. Please…if you aren’t going to hire me, just…just leave. Please…”

The caramel haired alpha stared at the beautiful omega in front of him; there was no possible way he could ever hire Arata for something so dirty. He didn’t want to be one of those people, not in this life, not in the next; he just wanted to keep the damn kid safe from harm. How could he do that if Tanji was breathing down their necks the entire night? Simply put, Bobata couldn’t. He would get Arata in trouble, and with how high tensions were in Tokyo, that would be damaging to their relationship, and the rest of the omega’s lives. He knew that the money he gave Tsucchi couldn’t be used all at once, because Tanji would see that they paid their rent, and wonder where they scrambled up the means to pay in advance.

Bobata couldn’t do anything to help right now.

 

_Unless…_

 

Arata watched as the alpha stood up, a piece of his fragile heart cracking on the edge. Despite his words, he didn’t want Bobata to leave him alone here. He wanted a hero, like Konoha so often dreamt of. Kazuma slid his chair back in, the background music and clutter offering distraction from what he was about to do.

The omega stared at Bobata’s hand as he offered it.

 

“Okay.”

_…Okay what?_

“Let’s go.”

 

Reality slowly came over Arata, whose heart began thumping so loudly it was a wonder it didn’t shatter. His hands immediately began to tremble in anticipation at the realization that Bobata was… _accepting his offer_. This was _real_. The nice guy who had given Arata money for his own personal use, who bought him a new scarf that he didn’t ruin, who had taken him out for a nice Italian dinner and didn’t once try to take a pass at him…

His acceptance hurt Arata in ways he couldn’t describe.

 

Words escaped him, and so, the omega took Bobata’s hand, and let himself be led out of the club.

 

~~~-~~~

 

After suffering through two shows beside Suguru, Terushima came to the conclusion that Daisho and he would never be friends.

 

The guy was just too insufferable; if Terushima played sports, he would want to ram the bastard into the ground with one of his hits, although something told him Suguru would play just as dirty, whether in retaliation, or just strategy. Both thoughts pissed him off, and as they headed towards the third room for the final show, Yuuji wondered how angry Akaashi and Yaku would be if he were to kill Suguru right here, right now.

“This one should be the best,” Daisho said excitedly, tugging Yuuji along. The omegas he brought had left an hour ago, not bothering to hide their tears as they did so. “All these pent-up hormones, all the fresh dollar bills…damn! I love Tokyo!”

“I know right?!”

 _How am I even functioning right now?_ Terushima wondered, silently glaring as Suguru rushed to the front table again. _This guy’s a pain in my ass, and people have called me that a lot—I know what it means, so for me to be annoyed with someone…jeez. He’s a manipulative prick. I bet he’s doing this on purpose…_

“Yuuji! Over here!”

 

Suguru had shot back a good ten drinks now, but he still wasn’t as intoxicated as Terushima would have liked. One of their similarities was their alcohol tolerance, a trait which Yuuji took advantage of and began a conversation about favorite brands of whiskey, beer, vodka, etc. He told Suguru about his friend Rintaro’s dangerous mixtures, their poker nights, their dance competitions, hoping that their disgusting similarities would lure the hitman in, if only a little. He didn’t need to be best friends with the bastard—he just needed him to _think_ about being friends with him.

Once you enter a hitman’s mind, you almost never escape.

 

Terushima put all his energy into acting casual, jumping up to the very front table with Suguru, who was practically bouncing in his seat; he kept mention how he wished Konoha was involved in stripping, making Yuuji wonder if he was previously involved with the omega, or was just mildly obsessed with his good looks. He put this thought aside for later, so Yaku could investigate it himself, and went to go sit by Suguru and watch the show.

Since Haru didn’t perform anymore, he was probably walking around the room somewhere, socializing at Tanji’s request, and as much as Terushima wanted to talk to him, maybe play a couple harmless pranks on Shiratorizawa’s leader, he still had work to do. He kept himself going with the idea that if he got enough information tonight, they could take care of Suguru sooner, and he could spend as much time with Haru as he wanted, and vice versa.

Out of all the shows, the Japanese Fashion Show was the worst.

Not only was it basically a free-for-all, what with the little amount of leather clothing involved, but because what Suguru had said was right; after the first two shows, the energy of the alphas was close to breaking, releasing into the room in one large spurt of hormones. That was asking for trouble. Terushima not only feared for the omega’s health, but for Haru’s as well; someone could easily snatch him in the midst of the sexual chaos. Arata, too, could be taken or kidnapped…and Konoha…Konoha had probably experienced something like that before.

 

The show began as soon as everyone was settled in, beginning with a strip tease from Ennoshita.

 

Terushima kept the same eager expression plastered on his face, making sure he was blending in with the crowd, as to not alarm one of the omegas if they caught sight of him. People kept whistling over the music, talking amongst themselves, deciding who their favorite was…it all made Terushima sick. Still, he kept up with their comments, adding his own every now and then, praying Haru wasn’t around to hear the disgusting words coming out of his mouth. Suguru wasn’t quiet about his opinions, however, and kept licking his lips with his snake-like tongue, like he was waiting for a meal to be dropped into his cage. In a way, the events that unfolded were just like that.

 

When part of the stage was electronically pushed in, signaling the crowd to come forward, Yuuji only had a second warning before Daisho shot out of his chair and stationed himself practically on the edge of the stage.

 

“Yuuji!” He called back with that damn tongue-smile. “I got a good spot! Come on!”

“ _Fuck_.” Terushima said in response. It had a different meaning to him than it did to the hitman. There was no possible way the omegas wouldn’t see him now…

Yuuji took a spot right next to Suguru, who was stationed practically in Yamaguchi's lap with how close he was. The poor omega's eyes were getting a little quick, darting this way and that underneath his long eyelashes; Terushima tried to make himself as casual as possible, and turned to look at Ennoshita instead, who was dancing more provocatively now, in silent hopes of distracting Suguru from his mate. He had no such luck however.

Daisho's eyes were trained on Yamaguchi's every move, his long legs, his sultry perfume scent; the other alphas of the room were noticing him, too, and the omega was beginning to realize how scary his current predicament really was. The money was starting to be thrown and tucked inside the waistbands at an alarming rate; Yuuji was aware of all of these sensations, most concerned about the way Yamaguchi seemed to be panicking. When Suguru's arm stretched up, reaching towards this particular omega, Chikara began desperately releasing his scent, trying to do anything to save Tadashi from another horrible experience with Suguru, the hitman.

A hand reached out, stopping Daisho's hand a mere inch away from Yamaguchi's skin.

 

"I think someone's trying to get your attention, Suguru-kun." Terushima purred, staring at Ennoshita. "He's been eyeing you the entire performance...you're not going to neglect his attention, are you?"

Suguru's eyes flickered towards the second stripper, who began licking his lips and leaning closer to the pair at being recognized. Yuuji could only hold his breath as a long moment of thought passed, ending with Daisho slipping his dollar bills into Chikara's lingerie panties.

"Thank you, Suguru-sama." The black haired omega purred.

"Anything for you, Chikara darling." Suguru's gaze turned towards Yamaguchi, a playful, teasing spark igniting amongst them. "Better luck next time, Tadashi!"

 _No,_ Terushima thought, glancing away. _I really don't think he can get this lucky a second time._

 

_Where's Bobata when you need him?_

 

~~~-~~~

 

Meanwhile, Arata Tsuchiyu was sitting in the passenger seat of Bobata’s sleek black sports car, wringing his hands together roughly, in hopes that he would create some kind of magic that would allow him to teleport the hell out of this situation.

 

His mind was pretty much blank at this point, a state it had to be in if he were to survive this night. Under normal circumstances, when he was sleeping with a total stranger, Arata would have to keep his mind alert, aware, in order to please the alpha or beta correctly. That was how he made the nights go faster, but now, with Bobata as his client…he just couldn’t bring himself to do it.

 _No person should have to go through this_ , Arata thought, squeezing his eyes shut tightly as they pulled up to the alpha’s apartment. _Why me? Why do I always befriend the worst people? I thought…I thought he didn’t care about that stuff. He said he would never hire me for this. Why did he betray me? Was it because I told him to go away? Did I unknowingly bring this on myself…_

The car shut off, and Arata bit down his gasp.

_This is it…this is how I’m going to die. Who would’ve thought you could die from a broken heart without being in love?_

 

The omega accepted life’s final pleasures when Bobata opened both the car door and the apartment door for him, took his jacket and hung it up on the coat hanger for him; he figured that was as much mercy as he was going to receive, so he decided to give his last thank-you as well.

“Thank you.” Arata said softly, watching as Kazuma brushed off some dirt from the omega’s thin jacket.

Bobata didn’t say anything, but gave Tsucchi an even look, then motioned to follow him.

The pair walked into the kitchen, where Arata stood awkwardly, watching the alpha hurry around until he was told to take a seat “wherever.” He assumed Bobata had a certain spot where he sat, so the dark-eyed boy chose a spot that seemed the safest, and stiffly sat there, wondering if they were going to do it right there on the counter. Bobata went around the kitchen gathering several cooking utensils before loudly shoving all of them in a drawer and grabbing a pizza out of the fridge.

 

Arata, unable to stand the tension, broke the silence between them in a trembling voice.

 

“My—My—” He took a deep breath and closed his eyes tightly. “M-My fee is $100 an h-hour.”

 

Bobata dropped the pizza pan, making Arata jump a foot off the chair. Kazuma’s eyes were wider than the omega’s, making him even more confused.

_Did he expect me to give him a night free?..._

“NO!” He shouted suddenly. “No! No no no no no!”

“W-What?” Arata yelped as the alpha came towards him quickly. He stopped immediately when he realized how distressed the poor omega really was. How stupid could he be? Forgetting to clarify that he _wasn’t_ going to sleep with Arata, that he _wasn’t_ going to pay him to have sex? What the hell?! How could anyone _forget_ that?!

“Oh my god,” Bobata said, covering his face in agony. “I’m so sorry, Arata! I didn’t mean to make you so stressed out! _Fuck_ …how could I forget that?! I’m such an _asshole_! I’m not going to sleep with you, okay Arata? I’m not. I just made it seem like that so Tanji wouldn’t get suspicious!”

“Y…Y…You…”

Arata’s head began to spin as he watched Kazuma scrummage in boxes in the living room, loudly berating himself all while looking for something.

“Jesus, I’m such an asshole…stupid idiot…here it is.” Bobata turned around, stumbling forward to hand Arata an unopened package of something. “It’s um…it’s a comfort scenter. I got them for Rintaro after one of his disastrous break-ups one time; they um…it’s just a bunch of comforting scents, like, omega scents, or something, to help calm someone down.” He let out a disappointed sigh at himself, shaking his head. “I’m…jeez, I’m really sorry, Arata-kun. I swear, I’m not hiring you for your services. Here—take these. They should help. I’ll drive you home in a bit…or would Tanji be displeased at you coming home so early? Damnit…I really messed—”

 

Arata threw his limp body against Bobata’s, his face diving right into the alpha’s neck glands.

 

“I knew it!” Tsucchi cried tiredly, an amazing smile lighting up his expression; though Bobata couldn’t see it, he could definitely feel it. “I knew you wouldn’t…I _knew_ it, Bobata…”

Despite his sudden revival of life, Arata’s body was slowly giving way to the deep, luscious scent coming from Kazuma’s throat; Bobata wrapped his arms around the tiny omega to keep him from falling on his knees. He didn’t fully understand Arata’s relief until later, but what little he knew right now made him smile in relief.

So…Arata likes me then, does he?

“I’m so glad…so glad Bobata is kind…”

Tsucchi all-but melted from being held in such an embrace, and his eyelids fluttered shut without another word or explanation. He let his head rest in the crook of Bobata’s shoulder, falling into a temporary state of sleep from all the mood swings he had been undergoing the past week.

 

“Arata? …Are you sleeping?”

The alpha gave a light sigh mixed with a fond chuckle when the omega didn’t reply.

“What is life…”

 

In a strange turn of events, Bobata carried Arata to his bed and laid him down under the sheets; he could tell the tan-haired beauty wasn’t completely out of it, as he kept trying to speak and whisper, saying Bobata’s name over and over again, but Kazuma knew he needed rest. After making sure the omega wouldn’t fall out of bed, he returned to the kitchen, cooked the pizza, got some drinks, took his suit jacket off, and returned to the bedroom, finding Arata much more conscious.

“Pizza?” Tsucchi asked, wiping his eyes while squirming over to sit as close to Bobata as possible.

“Yeah. This is what I like to call ‘magic in bed.’ Much better than Tanji’s version, am I right?”

When Arata laughed at that, Bobata’s chest stuck out in pride, reminding the omega of his current obsession; Kazuma was confused as Tsucchi climbed even closer to him, not being shy about positioning his head right where Bobata’s alpha scent was at its strongest. After a few minutes of the caramel haired man admiring the omega’s confidence, Arata seemed to realize how out of character he was being and shyly backed-up, reaching for a piece of pizza to distract from his embarrassment.

 

“It’s okay,” Bobata said, grabbing his own piece. “I don’t mind if you smell me…it’s just…surprising to see you so close.”

“Well, you smell nice, so…”

Kazuma’s loud laugh echoed throughout the entire apartment, making Arata giggle to himself; his cheeks were full with bites of pizza, and this time, Bobata didn’t refrain from poking one of those cheeks, getting another grin from the little chipmunk, whose smile was so wide the edge of his lips were turning pink from strain. It was quite a sight to see—only minutes ago, the pair were stuck in an anxious world of sex, money, and other poisons of various kinds, and now…they were eating pizza in bed, together, laughing it up while taking quiet moments to catch the other’s scent.

 

_What is life…what is life…_

 

Near midnight, when Arata was falling asleep, having filled himself to the brim with cheese pizza and Bobata’s wonderful scent, Kazuma decided to leave a message at the omega’s apartment, in case Haru and the others were concerned about their friend. He also left a message at the Johzenji house, where the group was probably supposed to meet up in the morning to discover their findings, roughly explaining the situation in code, in case anyone was listening in. When he came back to the bedroom, Tsucchi was squirming around trying to get comfortable under the sheets. He found an apparently comfortable position by wrapping himself in a tight ball, his head the only part of him showing; Kazuma smiled like an idiot at the sight, quietly sliding back onto the bed, lying beside the sleeping form to admire the omega.

 

 _This is life_ , he thought, lightly pushing a piece of Arata’s hair back. _This is life._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	11. Possibilities

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hints at a new life torment the Roses' hearts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's...almost....Halloween....stay tuned, October 1st...

“So, essentially, we can’t take Tanji down without taking Suguru down first.” Akaashi said through the phone. “Terushima’s working on it right now…he’s made friends with him, and I suspect they’re getting along swimmingly.”

Yaku gave a deep sigh into the receiver, rubbing one of his temples stressfully; Akaashi had told him all about the information Terushima had gotten on the hitman, none of which was positive. Apparently, he had known Tanji a long time, had done some of his first hits for the man, and was connected with a lot of other yakuza groups in Japan, one of which, he had just finished a big job for; simply put, Suguru was not going to be easy. Unless they could bribe him with money or an omega, he would be sticking to Tanji’s side of things, making the entire situation a hell of lot bloodier—and Yaku wasn’t looking forward to it.

“Great,” He mumbled. “Of all the hitmen in Japan, Washijo had to choose the best…I suppose that’s his main talent, finding the strongest people to add to his collection. I wonder if he’s ever offered more than money to Suguru as a reward…”

“From what Yuuji-kun told me, he has a great interest in all of the Delicate Roses, especially Konoha, who, ironically, is the only omega ‘officially’ signed-up to be a knotting freebee. At least that’s what Komi said.”

 

Yaku sighed again, not noticing that Shibayama had walked-up and was hovering in the doorway, nervously waiting for him to finish the phonecall so he could ask if he wanted to eat lunch together today.

 

“Alright, alright…I’ll see if I can do anything on my end. Thanks, Akaashi-kun.”

“Have a nice day, Yaku-san.”

Morisuke hung-up, giving another long sigh, and put his head on his desk in defeat.

 

 _I just want to see Shibayama happy_ , he thought sadly. _After what I said the other day, there’s no way I can let him go without a fight. I won’t let him be trapped in this sickening world, no matter how terrifyingly accurate Suguru is with his hits. I want Yuki to be in my life, if only for a while, if only for an eternity…_

_But how?_

“Yaku-san?”

The alpha nearly jumped out of his seat when Shibayama spoke, eyes wide as he turned to see who was at the door of his office. Yuki was standing there shyly, hands folded behind his back; he was just too damn cute for Yaku to handle. He remembered how it had felt, leaving a soft, grazing kiss on the omega’s pale cheek…it was like a beautiful dream, a fantasy, something that only belonged in heaven. He wanted to do it again and again, and for once, was thankful that he asked Shibayama to work Saturday with him. Usually the omega’s mere presence distracted him from his work, but today, Yuki was calming, reassuring.

“Sorry Yuki-kun…you scared the crap out of me.”

“Sorry! I um…I…I was just wondering what you were doing for lunch today.” Shibayama inquired, though that wasn’t part of the plan he had been making for the past hour while business was slow.

“Oh,” Yaku said slowly, glancing around at the hidden files he had lying around, all of Suguru. “Well I…I was actually going to see if you wanted to go to this Italian restaurant today, but I have a lot of work to do, so I was going to just work through lunch today.”

 

Yuki tried not to convey the disappointment he felt, which was stronger than he anticipated, but Morisuke already knew what he was feeling, and set-out to make things right.

 

“I’m really sorry, Shibayama, I really would like to have lunch with you like we do every day, and I’m not trying to blow you off because I regret what I said the other day, a—”

“I understand, Yaku-san.” Yuki smiled lightly. “I know you like to watch movies where the guy slowly breaks off contact with the girl even though he promised he would get together with her again, but I don’t think you’d be able to carry that out very efficiently. You’re much too polite.”

Morisuke almost smiled at this, and wondered when he had told Yuki about the movies he liked to watch for pure entertainment. (In reality, Shibayama had seen an entire stack of these movies on the alpha’s coffee table when he went to his house to return Lev.)

“Well, next time I’m free, I’ll make a reservation at the Italian place,” Yaku assured him. “And we’ll go together. It’ll be…kinda like a date, or something…sound okay?”

Shibayama’s eyes widened, and he gave a dull nod in agreement, the word ‘date’ drawing a strange emotion from him. He had only heard of dates at this point in his life, and now that Yaku, the nicest alpha he had ever met, the one who said he wanted Shibayama to be in his life, was going to be the first person to take him out?

 

_Yay!_

 

“Great! So…I’d better get back to work. Did you want anything else?”

Yuki opened his mouth, then closed it and shook his head.

“Okay; have a nice lunch, Shibayama-kun.” Yaku smiled.

The dark-haired boy gave him a smile back, and Morisuke turned around.

 

Despite his dismissal, Shibayama didn’t leave right away; he was lingering in the doorway, staring longingly at Yaku, unsure of why he hadn’t left yet. There was something he wanted to say, maybe? Maybe he wanted to tell the alpha how grateful he was for him, how thankful he was for this job, how much he enjoyed working side-by-side with Yaku, how much he loved learning from him…on a different note…maybe he wanted to tell Yaku how deeply he admired and adored him. Maybe he wanted to tell him how much he was looking forward to getting to know Yaku and Lev better, how happy he was that someone wanted him, wanted to get to know him, wanted to help him learn more about himself as time went on—

Shibayama didn’t know how or what to say, so, he lingered for a few more minutes, then forced himself to turn away, even though the words were right on the tip of his tongue. Yaku had felt his presence the entire time, and found himself a lot more disappointed than he should have been about Yuki leaving without saying anything—not that he knew any better what those silent words were hinting at. There were a lot of things he wanted to say to Shibayama too, but the only language he could think of at the time was intimacy, and as romantic as getting up, walking across the room just to kiss Yuki’s cheek again would be, he figured it might give Tanji’s touch-starved omega a mild attack of conflicting emotions.

 

As Shibayama walked back to the main room to eat his lunch, he couldn’t help but wonder if lingering in Yaku’s presence meant something deeper.

 

~~~-~~~

 

“And then after I threaten the guy’s knuckles, he starts talking, right?” Suguru said with a mocking laugh. “Apparently his knuckles meant more to him than his dick did; probably because his hand was a hell of lot more talented than what was down below, am I right?”

 

As Daisho laughed at his own story, Terushima grinned, hiding his utter and complete disdain for the alpha beside him. They had been driving around Tokyo for the entire day, Yuuji in the passenger seat, Suguru in the driver, saying hello to some of his old friends, old enemies, going past all the old stops he used to make, etc. etc. The hitman asked many questions about Johzenji’s operation, and Yuuji basically told him everything he knew, which wasn’t a lot, due to their disorganization; he also told Suguru about how they all came to be in the group, leaving out the part about Yachi’s disappearance causing Yuuji to run away for good. The hitman was casual, but interested, though Terushima never for one second thought he was being sincere; he was skilled at gathering information, just like Johzenji, though his reputation as a talented assassin splattered his nice-guy façade. Terushima learned a lot about the hitman in their endeavors, the most obvious being that Suguru liked talking about himself more than anything. He talked about his car, his girlfriends, his exes, his turn-ons, anything and everything he liked in a friend, saying that Yuuji was the first person he’d met who was a fun guy who could do so without being drunk. So many of his other ‘friends,’ he claimed, were all talk-no game, and couldn’t be cool no matter how hard they tried.

“I like you a lot, Yuuji-kun.” He had said earlier, grinning over at the other alpha. “You’re a slick guy. I hope this isn’t the last time we hang-out together while I’m in Tokyo.”

“Boy, if one of us were an omega…” Terushima played along dreamily, making Suguru laugh again. “We could rule the world together, like Bonnie and Clyde.”

“Even better, like Jesse James and his horse! What’s a better combination than two alphas?”

 

_Satan and his hellhounds…_

 

The pair were now cruising through a deserted spot of Tokyo, looking for a place to smash all the alcohol bottles sitting in the backseat; Daisho liked wrecking things, it turns out, and wanted he and Yuuji to bond more by breaking a bunch of shit together. That was how he developed friendships, apparently. Terushima himself thought dancing and playing sports together was more fun, but what did he know? He only had a handful of close friends who would die for him…what kind of friendship is that?

According to Suguru’s definition, a bad one.

“There’s only a selective few people that I hang with in Nohebi.” He told Yuuji. “No one is allowed to have my back, no one matches my skill level, and that’s the way I like to keep it; there are a few exceptions to this rule, of course…I like keeping smooth-talking people around me. Smooth-talkers can keep a conversation alive, make life interesting, you know? And they’re good with lies, too. I want people I can count on to keep-up with me when I lie to someone.”

For a second, Terushima thought his façade had been found out; he casually looked over at Suguru, sneaking a peek in the mirror to see if anyone was sitting behind his seat.

“I know the feeling,” Yuuji replied. “My entire group is like that, but sometimes their inability to realize they should stop talking irritates me to no end. I know I sound hypocritical, because I love hearing the sound of my own voice, but come on; there’s a fine line between hearing yourself talk and giving away unnecessary information.”

“That’s what I always tell them! But do they listen?”

“NO!” Both alphas answered in unison.

 

They let out laughs at their sick similarities, and Yuuji went over what he knew so far in his head, watching as Daisho pulled into an old junkyard for them to break their bottles in.

 

_Firstly, Suguru is a bastard. Secondly, Suguru is very self-centered, manipulative, sneaky, and just a plain old snotty guy. I would never want to join his little group. He seems to have an interest in all of Tanji’s omegas, but he mentioned Konoha more than a few times, which is cause for suspicion; he’s a player, but does get a little flustered when you use his own methods against him, which is strange, but I plan on using it against him. He likes knives, rare cars, winning, and getting paid._

_…I had to decline an entire fun-day with Takeharu for this shit?_

 

“Ready, Yuuji-kun?”

“Let’s break some glass, bitches!”

Suguru handed Terushima a baseball bat, and they each grabbed an equal number of bottles to smash.

 

They lined-up the bottles on a pile of old junk, and Yuuji let Daisho do the first honors; he stepped back and watched the scene unfold, waiting for the moment when the real Suguru would be revealed.

The hitman slowly drew the bat back, staring down his victims with intent, mischief glowing in his slitted eyes; the mood around them changed drastically, going from casual and humorous to dangerous and unknown. Terushima didn’t take his stare off Suguru, knowing that this piece of information about his character would be crucial to their investigation of the skilled assassin. This second was more important than anything Terushima had ever been a part of before—this was going to help Yachi. This was going to help Haru. This was going to help all the other omegas Tanji Washijo had stolen, broken their lives, ripped apart their character year by year until they were all his to control.

Finding out who this hitman really was would help Terushima discover who _he_ really was, by allowing him freedom with Haru.

 

Suguru brought the bat down, and shattered the first bottle in one strike.

 

It all happened in a small explosion of grins; Suguru’s lips peeled back in a cruel, twisted smirk, while his eyes shined with thrill, combining to expose a murderous puppet who, when left to his own devices, could destroy anything and everything—even himself. While Suguru was in control of his own actions, he was left vulnerable to his love of rewards, this time, it being in the shape of Terushima’s whoops of excitement; there wasn’t complete madness behind that gaze yet. Yuuji noticed how almost teen-angsty Daisho’s love of destruction was—maybe that was why Tanji chose him.

Who better to hire as your go-to hitman than an alpha who, just like everyone else, was prone to letting his desire turn him down deep and inescapable paths?

 

Suguru smashing another bottle brought Terushima back to reality, and he immediately began cheering and yelling, adrenaline pumping through his veins. Most of it was from figuring out who Daisho really was, but who doesn’t love a good bottle breaking session?

When the hitman finished with the first five bottles, he lowered the baseball bat, seething with a powerful aura of someone who liked to take advantage and exploit situations for his benefit. It took him a moment to reply to Yuuji’s yells, but when he did, that same snake-like smile appeared on his face.

“Only thing better than crushing bottles is sex,” Suguru huffed out. “Your turn, Yuuji-kun.”

“Haha! Don’t mind if I do, Suguru-chan!”

Terushima released all of his anger at the hitman and his employer by smashing the bottles until there was no big chunk of the glass left completely shredded into a thousand pieces, delighting and surprising Suguru by the fierceness of the hits.

“Man,” Daisho said once they had finished, a hurricane of glass surrounding their figures. “Nothing beats this; I’m so glad we don’t have bitchy omegas running around telling us what to do. How annoying would that be? ‘Suguru, you should be careful of the glass!’” He mocked in a girly voice. “I swear, the only good they are is for a nice thick knot.”

Terushima laughed breathily at that, his arms twitching with the growing urge to strangle the assassin.

“Got that right…if we had omegas, we probably wouldn’t even be able to leave the house, what with their damn pregnancy hormones and shit.”

 

Suguru took the bait.

 

“Ahh…speaking of pregnant omegas…” Daisho straightened up to give Terushima a curious, but mysterious look. “Has Tanji ever told you about his list? The knotting freebee list he has for his omegas?”

“Knotting freebees?” Yuuji repeated, growing casually serious. “As in…letting…”

“Letting one of his omegas have your child, yes.”

 

Suguru was too wrapped-up in his own imagination to feel the change in Yuuji’s scent, going from fakely entertained to enraged and disgusted, but still attentive. He watched from his spot on the dirty ground, seeing Daisho start to slowly pace around, deep in thought, as if he was transferring his mind back to a deep place he hardly ever visited. His words proved the opposite, however.

 

“It could be nice, you know…having a child of your own; like your own little legacy, or your protégée from birth. And if you don’t have a permanent omega bitch to be holding you back, you can raise the child however you want, no questions asked.”

He paused for a short second.

“…Konoha would be perfect for me, I think. He’s got a nice body, not too big of hips, and those eyes of his would look stunning on a mini-me.” He laughed. “He seems to be the only one deserving of my genes…not to mention, the most willing. Tanji’s never had someone take him up on his offer, and it never hurts to get on his good side; besides…I think we’re around that age where we alphas have to start settling down a little, you know, Yuuji-kun?”

 

“…Yeah.” Terushima lied with an eager nod. “I’ve never heard of these knotting freebees; does Tanji just provide the omega for you to breed or something?”

“Essentially, he lets you pick from the list, although Konoha’s the only one on it right now…he doesn’t pay for anything else but the child-bearer.” Suguru smiled at the images in his head, involving Akinori plump with one, or maybe even two of his pups. “The alpha provides and keeps them in his care for as long as necessary; when the omega gives birth, stays around long enough for the kid to get his nutrients…well,” He laughed again. “I guess that’s the end of the story!”

“Wow,” Terushima said in awe. “So you can just dump them when the kid’s born? It’s that easy?”

“That easy. Although I might have Konoha babe stick around for a time longer than that; have you seen the legs on that boy? I could easily get a good ten-years out of him, maybe even more than one pregnancy, if Tanji would allow him to be alive that long.”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh Terushima!” Suguru said mockingly. “So innocent and naïve…surely you know Tanji doesn’t allow his omegas to date; he uses knotting freebees as a way to get rid of some finances; once they serve their purpose, having been defiled by an alpha and given birth, he doesn’t really see the use of them anymore. I think that’s why he only has Konoha signed-up…he’s not as valuable as the other beauties. Maybe, in the future, if Tanji likes you enough, he’ll let you breed Takeharu-chan! You think he’s sexy, right?”

“Duh!”

 

A conversation had never pained Terushima so more than this one.

 

“Well then…if I were you, Yuuji, and I wanted my own heir in the near future…”

Suguru smiled at him.

“I’d get as close to Tanji and I as possible.”

 

~~~-~~~

 

When Konoha arrived home that night, near two in the morning, he found everyone tucked away in their beds, with the exception of Haru.

 

It had been a normal evening, a threesome with two of his regular clients, so nothing had surprised or disgusted him more than usual. He was eager to have a shower, as he still smelt of sex and cologne, partly caused by his slick-soiled dress; Haru brightened when he saw Akinori, whispering a greeting as the omega plopped himself down in the chair next to him at the dinner table.

“Good morning, Konoha.” Haru teased. “How was your night?”

“No worse than usual,” The ashen haired omega shrugged, noticing two objects in Futamata’s hand. “What are you up to?”

“Nothing…just looking at these again.”

Haru revealed the objects as his Bel Air postcard and the picture of he and Yachi, framed plainly, held gently in his large hands; the images both pained Konoha’s heart, though he knew his friend found great comfort in them. Both of the images sent pain through him because of how nostalgic they were; the first postcard symbolling a place they had never been to, could only go in their dreams, and the second…a place where they _had_ been, didn’t want to return to, but desperately longed to see again, because of the person lost during that time.

 

He had to look away, but asked Haru about his intentions.

 

“Feeling especially Lana Del Rey today?”

“I guess,” Haru laughed quietly, staring at the pictures with longing. “I was just looking—do you think they have barbeques in Bel Air?”

“If they do, I’m sure Arata will sniff them out.”

“I think we should convince Tanji to let us go on vacation! We might be able to pull it off, if we all act like we enjoy stripping and stuff!”

Konoha laughed under his breath at the idea of Washijo treating them to something other than coupons at the bar.

“I think I’d have to sleep with him to get us that far, Haru. And judging on the fact that he’s basically an asexual lunatic, I don’t see it happening in the near future.”

 

Haru gave a slight smile and looked back at his pictures, hoping to hide his disappointment, though Konoha knew it was happening as soon as he spoke. It wasn’t like he didn’t _want_ Haru to have hope…but judging on their lack of luck over the years and overall impending doom situation, he just…didn’t want Haru to get so deep that when they pulled him back out, he was already gone. He didn’t want that for any of his friends, so it was best to keep their imagination at a bearable level, though he himself was guilty of making-up wildly beautiful scenarios that were possible…

 

“If you help me avoid Suguru this time around, I’ll help you convince Tanji of a vacation.” Konoha promised, making Haru light-up again. “That snake’s got even more tricks up his sleeve since the last time we saw him…it’ll be harder for me to avoid him, since his rut’s coming up pretty fast.”

“Did he tell you that?” Takeharu asked with terror.

“I’m still recovering from the _last_ time he told me about it. The guy is seriously whacked…I wish I could go back in time, talk to him when he was still into Mika…”

The mention of Mika made the night frightening again, and Konoha wondered if he was more affected by the threesome than he thought. He shook his head, clearing it of all negativity, and changed the subject by asking Haru to tell him more about what Yuki said about Bel Air. The omega became cheery and energetic, despite it nearing 2:30 in the morning, which was predictable, because once you got Haru started on something, you usually never heard the end of it. That’s just how he was—

 

And Terushima wasn’t the only person who wanted to keep him safe.

 

_KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK._

 

Three loud raps were enough to wake the entire floor, though Konoha didn’t hear any of their roommates stir; he and Haru exchanged a look, because the person behind the door was definitely an alpha—an angry one, at first smell. Akinori was just about to put the other locks up when Takeharu touched his arm and practically bolted towards the door, opening it to reveal a stressed-looking Terushima.

“Yuuji?” Haru asked in questioning. “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” Terushima huffed, eyes darting between both omegas. “Are you?”

“Um…yeah, just…talking with Konoha...uh—do you wanna come inside?”

“Please.”

As it turns out, Terushima had been planning to leave from he and Suguru’s little get-together early, but as time went on, it became more difficult for it to seem like Yuuji was leaving casually or for business rather than because he couldn’t bear to be in the alpha’s presence any longer. He ended-up being with Suguru until 1:30 AM, and by that time, they were a long ways away from right where Terushima wanted to be: with Haru. He went over the speed limit for one of the first times in his life, praying the omega would still be awake so that he could apologize for not getting to spend the day with him. He wanted to make sure Haru knew how much he wanted to spend the day together. He wanted him to know about his regular hang-out joints he went to, the places he liked to eat, the places they went to dance…the places they hadn’t gotten to go to today, all because of Tanji and his hitman.

 

As Haru welcomed Terushima inside, Konoha stood-up from the table and made a quick exit.

“I’ve gotta go shower. Nice seeing you, Terushima.” He winked.

Yuuji would’ve winked back, had he been in a better mood.

Haru shook his head and led Yuuji to the table, where he had the picture frame and postcard, the former of which, Terushima picked-up with a fond smile; Yachi never failed to put him in a better mood. It had always been that way, even when he was a snot-nosed teenager who ran around the streets looking for secrets.

Now, both Yachi and Haru had that effect on him.

“How was your day?” Yuuji asked lowly, not giving the omega a chance to ask of his whereabouts.

“It was cool; I visited Shibayama at Traveling Cats again. Hey, do you know if they have barbeques in Bel Air?”

“Pf, I’m sure they do, Haru.” Terushima chuckled. “America loves beef and ribs and various other cooked animals.”

“True!” Haru giggled quietly. “Though I don’t think they ever had a history of eating dogs like we and China do…”

 

The boys laughed at their culture’s dark past, and their mindless conversation topic made Terushima’s chest ache even more; spending twelve hours talking with Haru about who invented the noodle would have been more enjoyable than spending time with Suguru. Yuuji kicked himself for ever allowing Daisho to live past this day, or even the day he began working for Tanji. Haru was a lot nicer to look at, too, with his dark, messy hair, his big brown eyes…he couldn’t get enough of the kid.

 

“So—heard from your buddy Arata lately?”

Takeharu’s eyes widened with excitement, and he practically leaned over into Yuuji’s lap with how far he leaned right, eager to tell him all he knew.

“Did Bobata tell you about that, too?!” Haru whisper-yelled. “They spent the night at Bobata’s, and from what I understood, they spent _all_ of today shopping together!”

“Arata’s still not back?!”

“No! He called me around midnight, saying he was catching a late movie, and that he’d be home at 3—I heard Bobata talking in the background, too. Out of all of us, _Arata’s_ the one who gets asked on a date first; go figure!”

 

Just as Terushima was about to reply, his eye caught sight of something sitting by the sink; it was a small package of some sorts, the image on the front being a model with her hair shining a bright white color…

Haru turned, seeing a chance in Yuuji’s demeanor, and paled instantly when he saw what caught his attention.

 

“…Haru,” Terushima asked dangerously, looking back at the omega. “Whose hair dye is that?”

 

 _Crap. Crap crap crap, I forgot to tell Yuuji about that_ , Haru thought in a panic, looking down at his lap to avoid that penetrative gaze. _Well, I WAS going to tell him, but we didn’t get to spend the day together, so I didn’t get the chance to…_

“I mean, I’m not a judgy person, I’m just curious.” The alpha continued, holding his hands up in confession. “You go ahead and dye your hair if you want, though, in my opinion, the color you have right now suits you better.”

“I know…I…I like my hair. I really like it, honestly, but…”

“But…”

“…Tanji asked me to dye it.”

Haru glanced up to see Terushima’s expression; it went from uncertainty to blazing fire within a split second.

“ _Excuse me_?” Yuuji asked, unintentionally sending off an angry scent. “ _Tanji_ is forcing you to dye your hair _white_?”

“Well, he asked, and I said it was okay…”

“Because he had Suguru standing there?”

 

Haru’s silence was answer enough.

 

Terushima stood up from his chair, pacing the room in frustration—he swore to protect Haru _and_ Yachi from harm, and now, Haru was being forced to rid himself of his natural hair-color, stripping him of even more personality, of even more of his past? It was insanity. It was too much for Yuuji to handle. Haru himself didn’t want to dye his hair such a noticeable color, but right now, he was starting to wonder if Terushima’s anger was more frightening than _Tanji’s_ anger.

“Why?” The alpha stressed in a whisper, turning back to Haru. “Why—why didn’t you—you’re just going to let him tell you what to do like that?!”

“I can’t tell him no, Terushima!” Haru pleaded. “He’ll have Suguru kill me!”

“And we have people that can kill Suguru before he gets his hands on you, Haru!”

The omega began to shake his head back and forth, tears rising to the corner of his eyes; this prompted Yuuji to get a grip on his emotions, and he forced his voice and body to calm down before rushing back over to Haru, dipping down on his knees.

“Y-Yuuji…he’ll kill me. He’ll hurt me, at the very least—do you _want_ me to get hurt?”

“Of course not,” Terushima scoffed, trying to meet the omega’s eyes. “I don’t want _anything_ bad to happen to you.”

“Then…then you just have to let this go,” Haru instructed in a sniffle, desperately trying to contain his tears. “This isn’t something to start a war over or whatever…it’s…it’s just hair.”

“It’s not _just hair_ , Haru. Don’t you remember Yachi, how Tanji had her hair cut before they even met?”

 

The mention of Yachi beside her picture was enough to make Haru start crying freely.

 

Terushima was taken-aback and immediately sobered by the omega’s vulnerable state; Futamata brought his long knees up onto the chair and hugged himself tightly, hiding his shaking form behind the limbs. Yachi was not the best person to mention at this time, because mentioning her reminded Haru about Mika, who had died so young, her own life taken by Suguru when he was so young…it was a tragic situation all around, and Haru didn’t want to think about their lifeless bodies when he himself could be on that same road, if he followed Terushima’s unnecessary advice and didn’t dye his hair.

“He’ll kill me…” Haru sniffled, shaking with terror. “He’ll kill me...”

“Haru—you don’t have to listen to everything Tanji says,” Yuuji argued back, trying to stay calm. “You can’t listen to everything he tells you to do.”

“W-Why not?”

“B—Because…”

Terushima’s pause made Haru look up and lock eyes with him. Dark, sad doe eyes met almond brown, and the words poured out.

 

“Because you don’t belong to him,” He said slowly. “ _You_ belong to _you_.”

 

Haru sucked in a quiet gasp, eyes unable to look away from Terushima’s.

 

“A-And you?” He asked. “Do I b-belong to you, too?”

“Only if you want to,” Yuuji smiled. After all the horrible memories he made today, he was still able to smile just from hearing Haru’s voice. “And it’s a little too soon to be talking about that, don’t you think, Haru?”

Terushima lightly wiped one of the omega’s tears away, trying to decrease the amount of stress pouring from his crunched-up body. _I guess being with Suguru did affect me_ , he thought _. I got angry really quickly…thank goodness for Haru. Without his presence, I would probably be as destructive as I was when I found out what happened to Yachi_.

There was silence between the two for a few moments, Haru thinking over everything Yuuji had said; of course, he knew that he couldn’t let Tanji bully him forever, but what he had said was true; Suguru had killed a Rose before, not to mention, a Rose he happened to be _falling in love with_ ….

And if he killed her then, so long ago, what was stopping him from killing Haru?

 

“It’s still not that easy,” Haru sniffled, a little embarrassed about his tears, but not enough to stop them. “I…I know you’re involved in…”

“The yakuza.”

“The…the yakuza,” He repeated. “And I don’t really know…what that means, but I know it won’t be as easy as you say, no matter…how much I want it to be. I don’t want anyone to get hurt over something so minor as t-this.”

“I get that, Haru. I know I just snapped at you like, a minute ago, but I guess you do understand the situation better than I do.” Terushima admitted, holding Haru’s delicate face in his hands. It was hard not to just squish his little cheeks together… “I don’t want to show you the world I live in, what I do for a living, even if it were to help you deal with your life. I’m not going to tell you what kind of access I have to people like Suguru and Tanji…but I will tell you this: I don’t plan on letting _any_ of them ruin you. Suguru won’t touch you, Tanji will not sell you out to anyone for as long as I live. And yeah, my first interest in you was because of your connection to my little sister, but I hope you know by now that you, Takeharu, mean a hell of a lot to me, and it’s only been a few weeks! Think of how infatuated I’ll be in a month!”

That got a giddy giggle out of Haru, who had never meant a hell of lot to anyone outside of the Roses.

“Do me a favor and put off dyeing your hair for as long as possible, okay? I’ll help make distractions if needed. I just…really fucking like your stupid messy hair, Haru.”

 

Haru laughed, a real laugh this time, and Terushima had the honor of feeling blush rush to his cheeks. He still looked a little worried when their gazes connected, and spoke in a soft whisper.

 

“Y-You really know people who can stop S…Suguru?”

_Well, if by people, you mean me, yeah._

“Yeah.” Yuuji nodded. “I really do.”

 

Haru tried to read his expression, feeling as if there was something else to be said. Before he could determine what it was, Konoha came into the room wearing nothing but a towel around his waist, hair wet dripping from the shower.

“Oh—still here, are you?” He said, catching sight of the pair at the table. “Hey Yuuji—you want something to eat? We got leftover rice and milk. The milk’s bad, but still edible, I guess.”

Akinori’s attempt at casual humor broke some of the tension still hanging in the air, and Terushima gave him a smile.

“I’m good, actually…all filled up on snacks.”

“Whatever you say…”

Terushima looked at his golden watch, seeing that it was nearing three in the morning. He glanced back up at Haru, just now noticing the sleepy-bags underneath his big brown eyes. He smirked and ruffled up the omega’s bed-head, brushing his nose past a strand to catch a whiff of his scent.

“I’ll let you sleep now,” Yuuji announced, standing up. “I just wanted to see you, make sure you were safe from harmful chemicals burning your hair.”

“You would know.” Haru mumbled under his breath.

“I’m sorry, what?”

Haru giggled mischievously, but shook his head.

“Nothing. Want me to walk you down to your car?”

“Yeah, but it’s late, and I don’t want you to fall down the stairs.” Yuuji smirked. “Why don’t you just show me out.”

 

Konoha silently eavesdropped from his position in front of the fridge as Haru walked over to the door, arm pressed closely against Terushima’s. The alpha opened the door, turning to lean on the doorframe before memorizing Haru’s face, like he tried to do every time he looked at the handsome omega.

 

“Don’t cry when I leave, okay? …I’m sorry for stressing you out. I’ll call you.” He promised.

“Okay!” Haru said, maintaining his cheerfulness, despite his lingering tears. “I would like that.”

“Glad to hear it.”

“Goodnight, Terushima.”

“Goodnight, Haru.”

 

 

Terushima decided to use a different version of Yaku’s cheek-kiss move, leaning forward to lightly nuzzle his nose against Haru’s cheek.

 

“Sweet dreams, Bel Air…”

 

Yuuji stepped back into the hallway, using Haru’s starstruck gaze to make the rest of his memories of the day a lot less bitter.

 

“Well,” Konoha sighed once Haru managed to shut the door. “It’s official—I’m the old man of the group.”

 

~~~-~~~

 

At 3:30 AM, Arata finally made it home.

 

He really didn’t have any excuse for his behavior; while he had gotten home much later than three before, on several occasions, this was different; he actually _willingly_ spent his own time, his entire day with an alpha named Bobata, who offered shopping when Arata woke-up at noon, having ripped part of his dress from his squirming sleep method. Although he started reluctant, since Bobata would once again be paying for everything, he started to loosen up once he realized that the alpha wasn’t trying to win him over and non-conspicuously suggest erotic outfits. He was just being a good guy. Truthfully, Arata didn’t even spend that much money, since all he bought was sweatpants and t-shirts—if he was a good enough actor and strong-willed enough like Konoha, he would have milked the guy for a lot more than that. Arata was much too soft-hearted to manipulate someone who had treated him with respect and kindness, however, so he tried to relax and enjoy his time with the alpha.

The day went by slowly, giving the pair enough time to go to several different areas of Tokyo to shop, and a lot of them weren’t even clothing shops; they went to the pet store and looked at baby kittens and terrifyingly agile ferrets, they went to an antique store near Date Tech’s territory, and even found a new mattress for Terushima at a mattress store. Bobata was going to get him a sucky one in retaliation for the ugly housewarming gift Yuuji gave him, but Arata convinced him to be nice and get the mattress. They also had a short conversation about Friday night’s events, concluding that they wouldn’t tell anyone, risking getting Arata in deep trouble; if Tanji asked, Kazuma promised to say that he slept with Tsucchi, and in return, Arata would have to have coffee with him once.

 

That was a bargain Arata was happy to make.

 

At the end of their night, after seeing a decent action movie and not having tried to cock a feel on Tsucchi even once, Bobata gave the omega the “change” from his spendings; it was just over $100, and to Arata, that was a lot of money. Kazuma didn’t seem fazed by it, only smiling when Arata tried to give it back.

 

When he was dropped off near 3:30 AM, Bobata said something to Tsucchi that he would never forget.

 

They were stopped right down the hall from his shared apartment, the hallway lights dim enough where everything seemed to have a glow; Arata himself looked like an angel to Bobata, even after having a long, mentally exhausting night, pink eyelids from crying, and a slouched posture from the fetal position he slept in…he was still pretty damn breathtaking. As much as Kazuma wanted to hug him, he figured Arata’s move last night had been impulsive, and since he didn’t want to risk ruining the entire fun day they had together, he refrained from doing anything but giving him some serious advice.

“Well,” Bobata sighed contently, smiling down at the fidgeting omega. “You got all your bags and everything? Didn’t forget any?”

“I got them.”

“You sure you can carry them?”

Arata rolled his eyes.

“There’s only four bags, and all that’s in them is sweatpants and t-shirts.”

“Still…I don’t want to be that asshole who walks you to the door but leaves you hanging when it comes to carrying your stuff.”

 

Tsucchi sighed, but it wasn’t anywhere near exasperated; this had been one of the chillest, calmest days of his life, and he was going to enjoy the lack of stress on his shoulders.

 

“Thanks again for last night,” Arata said quietly, blushing when he realized how suggestive that sounded. “I mean, for when you let me stay at your place and randomly hug you like that…it…it was really cool of you. It meant a lot more to me than it seems.”

“I understand…and thanks for hanging with me today. I know there was probably a lot more things you’d rather be doing, but I appreciated the company.” Kazuma admitted.

“Thanks for paying for everything; you really don’t have to do that for me every day, though, you know that, right?”

“Yeah, but what can I say? Your shy charm is irresistible, Arata.”

 

Tsucchi gave a smile at that, one Bobata had seen a lot throughout the day, sending shockwaves of nerves through his system each and every time. He cleared his throat and looked down at the ugly carpet, trying to figure out his words as Arata silently wondered what was about to happen.

 

“Look,” Bobata murmured lowly, connecting gazes with the omega. “Arata—if you ever get the courage to take a stand against Tanji’s oppressive lifestyle, I want you to know that you can always come to me. When that day comes, know that I’ll be right behind you, ready to back you up. Say the word, Arata-kun…and I’m all yours.”

 

Unable to think straight, Arata let his mouth hover open uselessly, his heart beating right out of his chest. He hoped Bobata could hear, because it expressed his gratitude and hope more than his words ever could.

Kazuma seemed to understand, and gave the omega one last smile and a hushed goodbye before walking down the hallway and disappearing around the corner.

_“Say the word, Arata-kun…and I’m all yours.”_

_All mine…Bobata wants to be…all mine._

 

The dim kitchen light was on when Arata mindlessly stepped through to his apartment; before he could even stop his smile, Haru came shuffling in, in his pajama shorts and t-shirt, eyes looking tired and worn. He had apparently been waiting for something, though, because his smile was wide and alert, directed at Tsucchi’s own.

“Arata Tsuchiyu, do you have _any_ idea what time it is?”

Arata giggled, and that was when Haru knew his day had been significantly better than anyone else’s.

“Is that Bobata’s jacket?” He questioned, touching the fabric over his friend’s shoulders.

“Hm? Oh…yeah. I guess I forgot to give it back to him.”

“You mean you intentionally forgot to give it back to him?”

 

Arata remained silent for a moment, making both of them giggle like schoolgirls.

 

“Come to bed with me,” Haru whined, tugging his friend forward as he dropped his shopping bags. “You can bring your boyfriend’s jacket, but I need to snuggle…I can’t fall asleep.”

“Where’s Shibayama?”

“Sleeping with Konoha, the traitor.”

The boys tumbled into bed together, and Arata noticed that their phone had been re-wired right next to Haru’s side of the bed; as they got comfortable with each other, he asked Haru what it was for.

“Oh,” Haru smiled dreamily. “Terushima said he was going to call me…but he also told me to sleep, so I’ve been doing both.”

“I see.”

Tsucchi situated himself so that they were spooning face to face, legs intertwined under the unusually warm sheets. They remained silent for a second, letting their bodies and minds rest.

“So…” Futamata said slowly. “I think it’s safe to say we’ve got something going on here.”

“Um…no…I don’t think omegas can mate together, Haru-chan.”

 

The boys giggled again.

 

“No no, I mean with these… _yakuza_ people.” Haru clarified in a whisper, as if yakuza was a bad word. “As happy as I am to be socializing with someone other than you guys…I can’t help but feel that Tanji’s going to find out and get upset with us.”

“I don’t want any of us to get hurt…”

“Exactly! And yet, I don’t think I’ll stop seeing Terushima, because—”

“He’s different,” Arata finished seriously. “They all are…they’re…they’re… _free_.”

 

The boys went quiet for a moment, reveling in their own sadness, their poverty, the unfairness of their entire lives…it hurt. As much fun as they had with Bobata and Terushima, it also hurt, knowing that they were free to do as they wished. It was painful, being so close to someone with such liberty, when they themselves were chained down, limited to what they were given, like a starving child waiting for their food stamp every month. It was a very depressing, very bitterly true mindset.

Haru wasn’t too sure he would be able to handle it.

 

“…They’re pretty sexy too, don’t you think?” Tsucchi added innocently.

“PFF!!! Arata, you can’t say that, I don’t wanna laugh too loud!” Haru shrieked, rolling over in agony.

“Well I’m sorry, but it’s true!”

“I know!”

The omegas looked over and smiled brightly at each other, deciding that for this moment, they wouldn’t worry about tomorrow. They would only focus on the now, their early morning conversations, their long, beautiful days with their new friends, the smiles, the touches, the cuddling…for right now, those were all more than enough to get them through today. Not money, not food, not work, but friends.

 

When Terushima called at four in the morning, Takeharu answered. When Terushima called him Bel Air again, he smiled. When Arata mumbled Bobata’s name in his sleep, he beamed for his friend’s happiness—and he didn’t feel a bit guilty about anything.

 

 _Nothing can stop my heart,_ he thought to himself as he finally laid down for bed at six in the morning _. Not Tanji, not the yakuza…not even Suguru Daisho. Either one of them could try and stop me, but I wouldn’t care—_

_Because Terushima…Terushima is my Bel Air._

 

 


	12. The Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Konoha's tired. Shibayama's courting. Haru's hysteric.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beginning of the end...shit goes down.  
> **READ PLEASE**  
> Just realized my computer didn't save the ending scene for Terushima/Suguru at the stripping show in Chapter 10! I have written a shorter version back in so nothing was left undone. Sorry about my laptop's negligence. It's uncontrollable.

Sunday afternoon, after catching a few hours of sleep, Terushima asked Akaashi to arrange a meeting with Karasuno, Nekoma, Fukurodani, and Johzenji. He had never been so eager to attend a meeting before, but after seeing Haru’s absolutely _striking_ fear of Suguru and Tanji’s partnership, he refused to wait any longer.

Shiratorizawa and the hitman of Nohebi needed to be eliminated.

At three o’clock, everyone finally settled into the official meeting room; this time around, Yuuji got to sit between Akaashi and Bokuto at the head of the table, which the leader of Fukurodani regretted once they started creating a ball of gum after finding several outdated packets of gum in Bokuto’s pockets. Thankfully, the severity of the situation brought Terushima back to reality, and as soon as the door closed, he was the first to speak.

 

“Friday night and all of Saturday, I hung out with Tanji’s hitman Suguru Daisho.” He announced. “Aside from the fact that I hate the guy’s guts, I found out that the Roses are terrified of him because of his savagery against them in the past. Word on the street is, when he was just starting out as a hitman, he had a thing with one of Tanji’s Roses, a soon-to-be prostitute of Tokyo; long story short, she tried to run away, Tanji ordered Suguru to kill her…and he did. I don’t know the whole story, but I’m assuming that after his first kill, Daisho’s been a total sadist ever since.”

“I suppose killing his love interest brought out his demons,” Akaashi mumbled. “Any hesitation he had then is most likely non-existent now.”

“He also likes sports cars and breaking things.”

“Breaking things?”

“Yeah, we went to a junkyard and broke bottles with a baseball bat.”

Yaku, sitting across from Terushima, blinked in confusion.

“…Are you sure it wasn’t you who suggested that, Yuuji-kun?”

“Pf!! I’m offended! I could think of something a hell of lot funner to do than break some stupid bottles!”

“More fun,” Akaashi corrected. “What else did you discover?”

“He likes working for Tanji the best…I think it’s because of his rewards, you know…a handful of amiable omegas and such…”

“Naturally, his end goal would probably be sex and money.” Bobata added from down the table. “You said he has an interest in Konoha, right Terushima?”

“Yeah; I think he’s been after him for a while now. And that concerns me.”

“We’re asking for trouble,” Kuroo said in thought. “If Suguru has such a deep interest in Tanji’s work, he might put up an even bigger fight than we anticipated. He’s a thinker, and he’ll find a way to wreck all of our organizations at once, if given the chance.”

“So?” Terushima shrugged. “John Wick is the only person in world capable of defeating an entire army of assassins, and he’s fictional! We can get Suguru _and_ Tanji out of the picture, I’m sure of it.”

“ _But_ ,” Akaashi stopped him. “Are we going to be prepared for the blacklash of the other yakuza groups who use Suguru’s talent on a daily basis?”

 

The table was quiet, waiting for Fukurodani’s leader to continue.

 

“Date Tech uses Daisho-kun for getting rid of people who won’t pay their gambling debts,” He explained. “Sejoh uses him quite frequently during their wars with neighboring gangs trying to take over. In the past, even we and Karasuno have used his skills…if we take out Tanji, there won’t be much to say. But Suguru…taking out Suguru is a completely different story.”

“He’s a valuable son of a bitch.” Kuroo added in distaste.

“Unfortunately, Kuroo-kun is correct.” Yaku sighed. “However…”

“However what?”

Morisuke flickered his eyes to Terushima.

“Suguru may be popular…but he also has a _lot_ of enemies.”

 

The groups began talking amongst themselves in agreement, telling stories of how they knew people who wanted revenge on Suguru, people who hated Suguru, who had tried killing the hitman before, only to fail miserably and go back to square one. Terushima was happy to know he wasn’t the only one in Tokyo who found Suguru’s smile infuriating.

 

“Yaku-san is right,” Akaashi said loudly, getting everyone’s attention again. “Daisho has many enemies…and if we consider ourselves enemies of him due to being enemies with Tanji…I think we might be able to save ourselves from retaliation.”

“So we’re doing it?!” Terushima asked excitedly. “I get to kill Suguru if we’re doing it! I call dibs!”

“I want second dibs!” Bokuto cried.

“I call dibs on dumping the body!” Bobata added.

Akaashi waited for the immature yakuza members to shut up, then proceeded.

“ _If_ we take out Suguru, along with Tanji…we would need to be prepared to kill the other few members of Suguru’s group back in Nohebi. Who would be willing to go that far undercover?”

“I would.”

 

All eyes went to Yamato Sarukui, the monkey man of Fukurodani, who didn’t seem to realize how malicious his tone sounded. He glanced around at everyone’s stares and gave a shrug.

 

“I like roadtrips.” He lied.

“I’ll go with him,” Wataru Onaga offered. “Tatsuki will, too. Komi?”

“Um…I’d rather stay here, if that’s alright.” “Huh? What for?”

All eyes shifted to Komi, who squirmed under the pressure.

“Since I’ve been trailing Konoha, I’d prefer if I stayed in Tokyo, where I can keep an eye on him…especially since Suguru seems to have a fatal attraction to him.”

“Komi stays here,” Akaashi agreed. “Will you two be able to handle things in Nohebi?”

“We’ll send a few men, too.” Daichi, Karasuno’s representative said. “Better to be safe than sorry.”

“Thank you, Daichi-san. Now that that’s settled…Terushima?”

“Yes Akaashi-kun?”

Keiji’s eyes became a little more serious, and he leaned back in his chair, contemplating his words.

 

“…What do you want to do?”

 

Yuuji stared at him blankly, trying to understand the statement; they wanted _him_ to decide what to do? The fun, unofficial leader of Johzenji? Was this a joke? Akaashi didn’t usually joke about stuff like this…

 

“Me?” Terushima repeated. “What do you mean?”

“Since you’re the only one on the inside of this operation, and since you seem to know the Delicate Roses the best out of everyone…what do you think would be the best move? Explain in Fukurodani terms, please, not Johzenji—I know how much you hate organizing, but I don’t think this is the best time for improvisation.”

“Right! Thank you for letting me decide, Akaashi-san…I appreciate the gesture.”

Keiji nodded once, and the yakuza members gave Yuuji a short time to think about his decision.

 _If we go after Suguru right this very minute, things could get ugly_ , he thought to himself, tapping out a pattern on the table. _But if we wait, things might get to be point of being beyond saving, and we definitely don’t want that…there’s probably no way to twist Suguru around, get him on our side, unless I buddy-up to him more than usual._

_Damnit…I hate being patient…_

 

“Well…for now, I think we should just sit tight.”

 

Akaashi raised an eyebrow, and everyone looked at Terushima like he was crazy.

 

“Sit…tight?” Keiji repeated slowly. “Weren’t you the one who wanted to jump on them right away? I only arranged this meeting as to prevent you from going after him so suddenly.”

“Good call,” Yuuji laughed. “I tend to get a bit impulsive at times like this, but after hearing what everyone has to say, I’m thinking that I should get a little closer to Suguru before trying to take drastic action; if we attack too soon, one of the them might get away—then again…if we wait any longer than a week…”

“The omegas.” Bobata finished lowly. “Things will get considerably worse for the omegas if we wait too long.”

“That’s not happening,” Terushima growled. “No one is going to touch those omegas; if they do, we’re moving the plan up.”

“Sounds like you’re a little bit attached, Yuuji-kun.” Kuroo grinned. “Which one is it?!”

“Takeharu—he’s like a fun little chipmunk!”

“Ooo, I’ve seen him before—excellent choice!”

“I know right?!” Terushima grinned, crossing his arms over his chest proudly.

“On a scale of one to ten, how fun is he?”

“Hmm…right now, probably a nine, but I’m sure once we take care of this shit, he’ll _definitely_ be an eleven.”

 

 

Akaashi rolled his eyes and looked at Bokuto, who smiled with amusement and nudged his mate’s arm.

 

“Can’t stop love, Akaashee!”

Keiji sat back and watched as Terushima asked Yaku about Shibayama, and inquired after the night Bobata spent with Arata; their obvious connection to these poor omegas proved their loyalty enough. Looking at the scene ahead of him, Akaashi wasn’t so sure Suguru understood just how doomed he was.

“No…I suppose you can’t, Bokuto-san.”

Keiji clapped to get their attention again, sending silence over the table. He stood up slowly, and addressed the group with a serious expression.

“I hope you’re all mentally prepared for a war,” Akaashi said. “Because once we move in on Tanji Washijo and Suguru Daisho…that’s exactly what we’re going to get.”

“Although I’ve never been one to overestimate our skills, I believe we’ve all been ready for the past three weeks.” Yaku commented honestly. “But I do agree with Keiji…everyone should be on guard, starting right now. On the spot incidents and decisions are going to happen, and we all need to be ready to face them responsibly.”

“Okay, Terushima?” Kuroo teased.

 

“Trust me, Kuroo-san.” Yuuji replied darkly. “I’m a master at improvising.”

 

~~~-~~~

 

On the other side of town, just as the yakuza meeting was finishing-up, one of the Delicate Roses’ lives was in fact, getting considerably worse.

 

Firstly, Konoha was working at the grocery store on a Sunday afternoon, the day he was supposed to have off; secondly, he had smelled Suguru’s presence and had been avoiding him for over an hour, which was hard to do, since Suguru seemed to have a habit of sniffing him out wherever and whenever. He also had to wipe shelves, which required going all the way to the back of the store in the supply closet to find the right cleaning supplies; this was where he was in the afternoon, trying to find a clean rag to replace the old one.

Thus, begins the problem.

 _Gek…I hate dirty things_ , Konoha thought, making a face at the dirty rag as he threw it in the sink. _Can’t I just be a normal grocery stalker? Do I have to clean shit too? Whatever…as long as it pays the bills, I guess. It’s not so bad. I get to be around normal people for once in my life…_

Akinori stretched as far as his arm could reach to grab the only clean rag he saw, making his shirt ride-up to reveal some of his bare skin.

_At least at this job, I don’t have to have sex with an—_

 

Using his silent, sneaky assassin steps, Suguru rushed up on Konoha, immediately placing his hands on the omega’s bare waist, yanking him backwards against his body. A part of Akinori knew who was assaulting him before they even got in his space; Daisho had done this two him two times before, and both of those times, Konoha had fought back in vain. The hitman said if he tried it a third time, that was his final strike.

And so, Konoha did nothing but try to control his breathing as Suguru pressed their bodies together, and sucked in a deep inhale of the omega’s scent, his nose and lips grazing across the skin.

 

“Mmm…it’s been so long, and yet…you smell exactly the same, Konoha.” Daisho purred. The room was completely dark now, the door having closed behind the hitman. “It’s nice to break some of Tanji’s rules once in a while, isn’t it?”

Konoha could say nothing; he pressed his lips together as tightly as possible to keep from biting or spitting at Suguru, which would surely sign his death sentence. Suguru kept feeling his body, running his hands up and across Akinori’s hipbones, inside his pants, on the underside of his shirt—he was becoming more and more nauseas, because this was as far as Daisho had ever gone with him before. Compared to how he fondled and felt-him up before…this was like borderline rape.

“Nothing to say?” Suguru hummed, licking a stripe up Konoha’s ear with his snake tongue. “That’s okay…I know you’re always a quiet lover.”

Konoha closed his eyes, coming to a frightening realization that he saw Daisho much clearer that way.

“…Fuck,” The hitman hissed, pushing the omega’s ass back against his groin. “I wonder how you taste down there, Konoha…will you let me have a bite soon?”

_Never. Leave me alone…please…stop teasing me…_

“You’re not fighting today—does that mean you return my affections, despite Tanji’s disapproval?” Daisho asked, a pleased smile across his snake lips. “Mmm…Mrs. Akinori Suguru. It has a… _sweet_ ring to it.”

 

_That voice…that terrible, hissing voice…_

 

A petrified shiver went through Konoha’s body, mistaken by his captor as pleasure, making him laugh in response, elated at this reaction.

“Oh? You’re sensitive in this position? I’ll make a note of it…”

Konoha finally let out a yelp when a sickening, musty, _bloody_ scent came oozing over his entire being, trapping him in a cloud of Suguru, burning his senses and bare skin, making the bile rise in his throat.

“Ahh, scenting…one of the oldest mating rituals of courting alphas and omegas.” Daisho cooed in his ear. “This is a good start to our relationship—don’t you agree, Akinori dear?”

The omega closed his eyes as tightly as possible, trying to hold his breath to prevent the disgusting scent from making him pass out. Suguru continued this for another minute before grazing his teeth over Konoha’s scent glands, which thankfully, had no effect on the poor omega; nothing could have prepared Akinori for a moment like this. Not being harassed, stalked, beaten-up, neglected by Tanji…nothing could compare to being forcibly scented by an alpha, a hitman, _Suguru Daisho_.

 

“Ahhh…this was fun. Let’s do it again sometime, hm?”

 

Suguru reluctantly pulled Konoha’s shirt down, and took half a step back, only to get a view of the omega’s shaking legs.

 

“See you later, Konoha-kun.” He said, laying a sloppy kiss on Akinori’s cheek. “Oh…and not like I have to remind you, but don’t mention this to any of your little friends, either.”

 

Daisho took one last look-over of his body, then smirked to himself and exited the closet.

 

Konoha collapsed to his knees and reached out, slamming the door shut, encasing himself in the self-deprecation of total darkness; for the first time in a long time, he let himself cry. Konoha was _weeping_. The tears poured out immediately, having been repressed for so long that they sought this opportunity as an escape; he curled his legs underneath him and wrapped his arms around his upper body, becoming ill over the lingering scent of Suguru all over his skin, staining what little omega purity he had left: being free of an alpha’s scent.

 

_Get him off! Get him off! I don’t want this…I can’t get him off!_

Akinori’s throat throbbed with strain, voice unable to produce whimpers at this point; he felt like a complete wreck, a waste of space, a pathetic example of a condescending older brother who couldn’t even stand up for himself, after all this time, after all he’d been through in his suffering-filled life. Nothing had changed—Suguru was still obsessed with him, and Konoha was still…dependent.

_I need Haru…or Yuki…or Arata, or anyone...but…I don’t **want** to need them. I can’t keep **needing** someone. I don’t want to need someone like that. Suguru thinks I need him, and I don’t want that to be true, EVER, but how I can stop it? I can’t. I can’t stop it. I can’t…_

_When will I be able to stand on my own?_

 

In the grocery store supply closet, Konoha held himself tighter, sniffled harder, and wondered if it was possible to feel _this_ alone in the world.

 

~~~-~~~

 

While poor Akinori was suffering at work, Arata was at home, debating whether he should call the number on the card Bobata had given him.

 

 _Maybe he’s too busy_ , the omega thought, running his fingers along the phone alongside he and Haru’s bed. _Maybe I’ll be interrupting something…what if he gets mad at me? I don’t want that, but I really want to talk to him. He’s a pretty funny guy because he gets bitter about stuff really quickly. Maybe I’ll just call later…_

Despite his thoughts, Arata dialed the number on the card and put the phone to his ear. He felt like a hopeless romantic when he sprawled out on Haru’s side of the bed, waiting for Bobata to answer; the first ring had barely finished before someone picked up.

“Yeah?”

“Hi Bobata—it’s um…it’s—”

“Arata,” Kazuma breathed in surprise. “Hey! How are you, what’s up?”

“I’m fine.” _Never been a good phone talker…_ “Just at home, bored. What are you doing?”

“Oh you know…hacking people’s social media accounts.”

“Cool.”

Bobata laughed on the other end, and part of Arata wondered if he was serious about the hacking thing. Either way, it was kind of funny. Not really, but just a little bit, because Kazuma didn’t seem like a technology type of person.

“Hey, did your neck get sore from sleeping on my fluffy pillows the other night?” Bobata asked.

“A little bit. Why do you have such fluffy pillow, anyway? Don’t they suffocate you?”

“Yeah, they do, but I don’t have time to get new ones! It’s a long, painful process, Arata—you wouldn’t understand my pillow struggle.”

“I’ve been sleeping on the same mattress since I was thirteen.”

“What the hell?!”

 

Tsucchi laughed at Bobata’s reaction, tossing around on the bed to distract from the butterflies in his stomach. They were quiet for a few seconds, content to just feel each other’s presence, but then Arata heard what sounded like a baby crying on the other end.

 

“Is that a baby?” He asked in confusion.

“Yeah…I’m…watching someone, and they’re talking with this omega about her newborn. Did you know they can have twins and give birth on totally different days? Like, if one of them isn’t ready, it just stays in there. What kind of freaky shit is that?”

“Pretty freaky. Is it cute? Usually newborns are all… _pink_.”

Bobata laughed so loudly Arata had to take the phone away from his ear for a moment.

“Yeah, it’s pretty _pink_. You’re an omega, though; shouldn’t your motherly instincts tell you that all babies are cute, even when they’re all slimy and new?”

“Maybe, but I’ve never given birth before, so…”

Kazuma was quiet for a second. Arata listened to someone on the other end baby-talking the baby, and to him, it sounded a lot like Suguru.

“Hey Arata…” Bobata started hesitantly. “Have you ever…wanted children?”

 

The omega paused, eyes unblinking as he repeated what Kazuma just asked him. _Children? Have I ever wanted children?_ Arata wondered. _I…I guess I’ve never really thought about it. As if Tanji would let us mate and marry some random alpha…that’s just unthinkable. But I guess, if I’m just thinking about it right now…_

 

“I…I…”

 

“I mean, I like kids; whenever I have a moment to think about it, or whenever I see kids on the streets, I always wonder if I’m ever going to have them someday. I think I’d like to have three, just because two is boring, and they might get bored of each other, you know?” Bobata explained. “I think I’d be a pretty slick dad, too, all dressed in my suits and my cool cars—kids love cool stuff.”

“That’s true,” Arata forced out, licking his lips. “Kids love cool stuff…”

“You would be a great parent, too, I bet! I mean, it’s hard to picture now because we’re both so young, but I bet you’d be the sweet omega who knows how to bake really great chocolate chip cookies and scones.”

“I buy my scones from the coffee shop.”

Bobata laughed again, which was why his next sentence, so full of pleading desperation, startled Tsucchi so much he had to sit straight up in bed to understand the seriousness of the alpha’s tone.

“I _really_ wish you’d tell me everything there is to know about Tanji, Arata.” Kazuma practically begged, voice sounding weak. “I don’t want you to get hurt even more than you already are…you know what I mean? I…I don’t want you to suffer in the long run. You probably already know that using such severe contraceptives and refusing a knot so many times can cause damage to your reproductive system, right? Those effects are _permanent_ , Tsucchi, and…I don’t _want_ them to be. Not for nice people like you guys— _especially_ not for someone as lighthearted as you, Arata.”

 

There was a short pause, nothing but breathing audible through the phone.

 

“ _Please_ let me help you, Tsucchi.” Bobata requested seriously. “ _Please_ …just…tell me what I need to know.”

 

“…It sounds like you already know more than I’ve told you, Bobata-kun.” Arata said quietly.

There was silence on the other end.

“It’s true…the contraceptives we use can damage our insides,” He confirmed. “I appreciate you offering to take me away from this lifestyle, but I—” The omega stopped to prevent his voice from cracking. “I find it hard to believe…that you can make it all go away. I…I’d be really happy if you could, and if that’s what you’re trying to do right now, great—but don’t endanger my friends while doing it. Can you…can you promise me that, Bobata? Can you promise?”

“Yes,” Kazuma said without hesitation. “Yes. I can promise that for you, Arata.”

“Thank you,” The omega swallowed. “Have a nice day, Bobata.”

“W—”

 

Tsucchi hung up the phone gently, letting his head fall into Haru’s pillow; all of this dangling hope was becoming too much for him to bear. All these random alphas coming in, sweeping the omegas off their feet, promising that they knew people more powerful than Tanji…it wasn’t funny. Arata was actually starting to _believe_ them. He was starting to think about all these images Bobata was putting into his head, things he had never thought about before, because he deemed them totally out of this world, impossible; but now…he saw a new life. One he used to envy many years ago, when he and Konoha were still at prostitution school—

 _Could it really be true?_ Arata wondered fearfully. _Are all these things Bobata’s exposing me to…real? Are these things becoming available to me, one of Tanji’s Delicate Roses?_

_…Is Bel Air right in our grasp?_

 

Arata didn’t know the answer to that question. But for the first time in a long time, he allowed himself to smile at the possibility.

 

~~~-~~~

 

Later that night, Yaku found himself standing at the front door of the animal shelter, wearing a nice maroon suit, a black tie, perfectly shined oxford shoes, and a small white rose hidden in a safe pocket on the inside of his suit jacket. At first, getting dressed started out as a normal thing, but then Morisuke looked in the mirror and realized that he had unconsciously dressed to impress—there was nowhere else to go but to Shibayama, who, luckily, was at the shelter today.

 _What the hell am I doing?_ Yaku asked himself as Yuki buzzed him inside. _He’s gunna think I’m proposing to him…but of course I had to buy him a rose. They were on sale! I can’t be expected to pass up an opportunity like that…besides, Shibayama deserves flowers. He likes them. He also likes cats, so if the rose freaks him out, he can just turn away and pretend like I never gave it to him._

_Why am I freaking out? It’s not like I’m actually proposing to him…_

 

Morisuke shook his head and maneuvered his way towards the cat room, where Yuki had yelled from. Well, it was more of a loud speaking voice than a yell—as if Shibayama could ever yell at someone. When the alpha peeked his head inside, he had to take a sharp inhale of breath; there wasn’t anything out of the ordinary about Yuki’s appearance. He was just cradling a really round cat in his arms like a baby, and wearing a casual grey t-shirt (that was probably not his, judging on how the sleeves reached his elbows) with red shorts. Yaku figured it was just seeing Shibayama so… _himself_ that made him lose his breath.

“Yaku-san!” Yuki greeted happily when he saw him. “Come check out Mimi—she’s four weeks _pregnant_! Isn’t that so cool?! In a short amount of time, we’ll have a whole batch of kittens to give away!”

“Maybe I’ll have to adopt one myself,” Morisuke replied, coming over to rub the cat’s swollen belly. “Get Lev some much needed company.”

“That would be great!” Yuki cheered. “Maybe it’ll teach him how to be responsible.”

“Pf—let’s hope so!”

 

The pair continued to pet Mimi for quite some time, accidently brushing over each other’s hands from time to time; after a few brief touches of skin, Yaku planted his petting hand right next to Shibayama’s, keeping it close enough where he could feel the omega’s heat. Remembering his self-control, he thought of Yuki’s innocence, and remembered that he had a rose in his pocket, waiting for someone to claim it.

 

“I’d better put her back,” The black-haired boy said. “She gets tired a lot quicker now.”

“Right.”

“I’ve never seen a cat give birth before…do you think it’s scary?” Shibayama asked, eyes wide as he slipped the cat back into its cage.

Yaku laughed and shook his head at the omega’s worry, “I don’t think it’s that bad; I wouldn’t worry about it too much, Shibayama.”

“Okay!”

 _He’s in a good mood_ , Morisuke thought, feeling his palms sweat nervously. _Maybe I can just slip it into his pocket without him knowing._

“So how’s your day going?” Yuki asked, facing him. “Are you on your way to a fancy restaurant or something?”

“No,” Yaku blushed, trying not to grit his teeth at his own nerdiness. “I just had this laying around, thought I’d try it on for a change.”

Shibayama nodded, trying to discreetly drift towards the alpha without him noticing; he _did_ notice, however, and casually met him halfway, so that they were standing at the table face to face. They didn’t immediately start a conversation, and Yaku figured now was as good time as any to give him the rose.

Yuki watched with interest as Morisuke dug through his pocket and carefully brought out a short white rose, blush hitting his face immediately, even though he didn’t know if the gesture was for him or not. When the alpha held it out for him, head held high and even, despite his obvious embarrassment, with a tiny little smile on his lips, Shibayama thought he was going to pass out.

 

“For you,” Yaku said. “A single white rose.”

“…For…F-For me?” The omega asked in disbelief.

“Yeah. Here—”

Morisuke reached for Shibayama’s right hand, bringing it up to gently place the stem of the rose between his fingers. That simple touch alone sent shivers through both of their bodies. Yuki investigated the beautiful white petals with wonder, wanting to look at it and the alpha before him at the same time.

“White means purity and innocence,” Yaku explained. “New beginnings, beauty and youthfulness…I thought it fit you pretty well.”

“Reverence and humility.” Shibayama said quietly, carefully touching one of the white petals. “I am worthy of you.”

“…I guess you know more about flowers than I do.”

Yuki smiled and brought the white rose up to smell, eyelashes fluttering from the combination of pollen, silk, and the small part of Yaku’s own scent from having been cooped up inside the suit pocket. The omega was sure he had never smelt something so intoxicating before. Apparently, Morisuke was thinking the same thing about Shibayama, because not a second after seeing Yuki’s dark eyelashes flutter in satisfaction and serenity, he made a rash, impulsive decision.

 

“Thank you,” Shibayama blushed deeply, meeting Yaku’s eyes. “It’s beautiful.”

“Shibayama!” Morisuke just about yelled, making the omega jump back in shock. “I really enjoy spending time with you. I love being around you and teaching you new things, and I especially love eating lunch with you when we’re at work together. I don’t want to sound obsessive but I could probably die a happy man just from smelling your scent; I love how lighthearted and determined you are, and I love your eyes, and your floppy hair, and how you’re shorter than me. I…I really love how you are with animals, and to be honest, you kind of remind me of a cat, but in a really good way.”

Yuki wasn’t sure what was happening, but his heart was pounding with each compliment. His mouth hovered open uselessly, the flower almost dropping from his fingers.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is…um—”

Yaku shook his head once, almost giving Shibayama a heart attack, before closing the small gap between them and swallowing hard. His eyes locked with the omega’s, and the promise words spilled out in a breathless whisper.

 

“Shibayama…when we get to know each other better…would you mind if I began courting you?”

 

 _Court…courting,_ Yuki repeated. _Courting…as in…marriage?_

 

_OH MY GOSH!!!!_

 

“ _Really_?!” Shibayama yelped, tears springing to his eyes as he brought his hands up to cover his mouth. “You really want to…to court me?!”

Yaku nodded rapidly, never taking his widened eyes off Yuki.

“Oh my gosh,” The omega laughed/cried, squeezing his eyes shut. “Oh my gosh…this can’t be real…”

“It is, Shibayama!” Morisuke confirmed, smiling so wide his lips were in danger of falling off. He brought his own hands up to make Yuki uncover his tearful face, wanting to see his overjoyed expression.

“Yaku-san!”

The dark haired boy clawed at the alpha’s suit, finally managing to get his arms wrapped around his shoulders so that he could try to prove his excitement and gratitude through a desperate hug. Morisuke laughed joyfully, embracing him in return, losing his fingers amongst the black locks; man…if someone would have told him a month ago that he would be half in love with an animal loving stripper by this time, he would have said they were nuts. If this was the happiest and most relieved he had ever been, hugging someone shorter than him, in the middle of a room full of cats, Yaku could only faintly imagine how deep Shibayama’s emotions were running.

 

 _It’s all over_ , Yuki thought as he whimpered and smiled into Morisuke’s suit. _This entire game of Tanji’s, it’s all over. Yaku and I are going to get married! We’re going to court and everything! I can’t believe it…there’s no way this is real…me, Yuki Shibayama, am going to be the future mate of Morisuke Yaku?! That’s unreal! I can’t believe it. After all this time, all our suffering, all our pain and tragedy…I’m going to be the one to save us all. I’m going to get out, be free in Yaku’s arms, and I’m going to help my friends get out, too. This is the start of a new life, one we all deserve. This is our new beginning—I can’t believe this!!! I’m going to be married! I get to know the ups and downs of Yaku’s personality, of his habits, of his life! HE asked ME! He likes me! He likes me A LOT!!!_

“Yaku-san,” Shibayama sobbed, unable to say anything else. “Yaku-san…”

“Shibayama,” Morisuke replied softly. He leaned away from Yuki’s neck to lightly kiss his cheek, just like how he had done last time.

 

That only made Yuki cry harder.

 

_This is unreal…I need to tell Yaku how I feel, too…I need to tell him how much I love being around him, how scary he was, but now, not so much, and I need to tell him how safe and secure he makes me feel, especially for being an alpha, because alphas never have that effect on me, and he needs to know that. With Yaku-san…it’s like…all the things I was afraid of, aren’t so scary anymore. Like Suguru, and angry Konoha, and Tanji, and—_

 

All at once, Shibayama’s heart stopped in his chest; his breathing halted in a silent gasp, and his eyes slowly drifted open, a horrible, _heartbreaking_ realization completely blindsiding his beautiful joy.

 

_Oh…oh no…no, no…_

_Tanji._

 

“Yuki?” Morisuke questioned in a laugh, thinking Shibayama had fallen asleep or something. “You still with me?”

“T…T…”

Yuki held onto the white rose for dear life as the alpha leaned them both back, startled by his future mate’s sudden change of personality.

“I… _can’t_.”

All traces of a smile vanished from Yaku’s lips. He looked at the omega seriously, noticing that the tears were different now.

“I… _can’t_ court you.” Shibayama confessed in a broken whisper.

For a moment, Morisuke was speechless. When he reclaimed his voice, it could only force out one question.

“Why not?”

Yuki choked on a sob, forcing himself to close his eyes, in hopes that the pain wouldn’t kill him if he couldn’t see it.

 

“ _Because Tanji won’t allow it_!”

 

Yaku reacted fast enough to catch Shibayama in his arms as he was on his way to the ground, crying uncontrollably. He lowered them down gently, his fear having gone after realizing that Yuki wasn’t refusing out of distaste—he was refusing because his _owner_ wouldn’t allow it. He wasn’t even refusing, really…he was just coming to terms with the harshness of reality. And it was hitting him full force, with everything it had, all at once. Yaku immediately lowered his head and tucked it into Shibayama’s neck, sending a soothing scent against his limp body. It helped a little, but the pure sorrow seeping from Yuki’s body almost overpowered every other scent in the room, and there were over thirty cats in that room. He was heartbroken. Something so… _perfect_ had been ripped away within seconds of being created.

 

For someone like Shibayama, who had been neglected, ordered around, and emotionally tattered for so many years…

 

It was indescribably disheartening.

 

“Shibayama,” Morisuke said softly, trying to retrieve his attention. “Listen to me, okay?”

Yuki kept shaking his head, refusing to hear anything over his own thoughts, much less, the words of someone he cared for greatly, who had kindly offered to help poor Yuki from his depressing lifestyle. Any attempts to get inside his mind were in vain until a few minutes later, when Morisuke’s comforting, protective scent became so powerful that it was impossible for Shibayama to not melt in his arms; the dark-haired omega looked up at the alpha with wide, tearful eyes, still tucked into his shoulder. Yaku used his fingers to gently wipe the tears off his rosy cheeks, giving him a moment to gain more of his senses back so he would understand Morisuke’s words.

“Listen to me.” The alpha whispered.

Shibayama, still staring in awe, nodded slowly.

“We can still court, Yuki-kun.” Morisuke promised. “We can.”

“… _How_?” The omega asked in a whisper.

_Well…I would have told him eventually…_

“Do you know Terushima-kun?”

Yuki looked a little more confused, but gave another nod.

“I work above him. Nekoma is another branch of Fukurodani yakuza, just like Johzenji. Fukurodani is far above Shiratorizawa, which is Tanji’s yakuza.”

 

There was a long moment of silence, during which Yaku thought he had just ruined whatever chance he had of getting closer to Shibayama. Of course his actual job would get in between them…of course someone as innocent and vulnerable as Yuki would never consciously enter into such a relationship with— _danger_. The omega continued to stare at him, as if evaluating his character, trying to link it to what little he knew about the yakuza; his expression didn’t change, but the fear elevated inside the alpha’s heart.

_Say something say something…_

“Y-You…you’re higher than Tanji-sama?”

“Yes. And…if you must know…we happen to be conspiring against him at this very moment with another yakuza group.”

“You…y-you’re trying to _s-stop_ him?” Yuki asked cautiously, trying to contain his hope. “Like…”

“We’re eliminating his branch,” Yaku said. “We’re hoping to free—"

 

_Free…free…_

Morisuke took a deep breath—he couldn’t really do this, could he? But…if it ensured his safety…

The alpha took another look at Shibayama; seeing those dark eyes staring up at him with such hidden hope and admiration and…fear…it made his decision for him.

_On the spot decisions._

 

“Go into hiding.”

 

Yuki blinked several times, quickly coming back to reality.

 

“…W…Wha?”

“Go into hiding.” Morisuke repeated seriously. “You can hide in my apartment. You haven’t told anyone outside of your roommates about us, have you?”

“I-I don’t…I don’t know anyone o-outside of my r…roommates…”

“Please, Yuki—at least consider it. The sooner something happens, the sooner this will all be over.” Yaku pleaded, holding Shibayama’s face in his hands. “We can set things into motion; no one would suspect you to be hiding out at my place.”

“But…b-but my friends,” Shibayama stammered. “They’ll b-be worried s-sick.”

“We might be able to let them know; we might be able to tell them without word getting out. The best thing for us to do is pretend like you’re a missing person, because Tanji will be more prone to cut us a deal that way.”

Yaku left out the part explaining that Washijo was going to end up dead either way, no matter what he chose, no matter what he offered for his omega’s return.

“Please…let me help you, Shibayama. I won’t ask anything of you for the rest of your life!” Yaku promised desperately. And he wasn’t lying. “All I want is for you to be safe and free—even if we _don’t_ end up courting, and even if we end up having a falling out, I still want you to be able to rule your own decisions, live your own life—…will you let me help you? _Please_ , Shibayama-kun?”

 

Yuki stared as hard as possible at Morisuke; there was no hint of ill intentions, no lies, nothing but pure determination and concern. He was telling the truth. He worked for the yakuza. He worked with Terushima, and Bobata, and…that was scary. But if they were more powerful than Tanji…how could he not have heard of them before? They could have helped them years ago, maybe before Mika’s death, maybe even before Yachi’s, maybe before Konoha and poor Arata were sent away to prostitution school…

_How much could I have prevented, had I known about Yaku sooner?_

_No…I can’t think that way. I have to think for right now. What can I do to help my friends right now?_

 

Shibayama released a shaky breath, and nodded.

 

“Yes?” Yaku confirmed.

“Y-es.” Yuki whispered. “I’m s-scared, though…w-what if something…what if Tanji…”

“Shh…it’ll be okay.” Morisuke hushed gently, pulling the omega as close as possible. “You don’t worry about anything. I want you to focus on your future, okay? I’ll take you to my place…while I’m making some calls, you can hang-out, watch some TV…okay?”

Shibayama nodded into his shoulder, though his eyes were as wide as saucers.

“Can you say okay, please?”

“O-Okay.”

 

“That’s my boy,” Yaku smiled. For good measure, he planted a sweet kiss on Shibayama’s hair. “Everything will be okay…I promise. I promise, Yuki.”

 

~~~-~~~

 

As if an answer from above, granting Terushima a cure for his growing anger, the red phone in the Johzenji living room began ringing off the hook.

 

“Hello?!” He yelled into the phone.

“Terushima,” The voice said casually. “The third dog of the pet show has your cat’s collar.”

Whoever had called hung-up, leaving Terushima to decipher the code.

 _Third dog, as in the fifth street of Nekoma_ , Yuuji thought, turning to pace the room. _The pet show…as in…the movie theater…cat’s collar…as in a message from someone at Nekoma._

_Got it._

 

Terushima sprinted out the door immediately, jumping into his car to speed down to fifth street, where a note would be left for him at their designated hiding spot at the movie theater, in the box underneath the projector. He arrived within minutes, and didn’t have to stop and buy a damn ticket like all the other chumps—there was a movie just about to start, so he hurried and brushed past the projectionist, shoving his hand inside the cracked opening of the box. There was a piece of paper there, and Terushima glanced around quickly, ensuring that no one was watching him. The walk back was casual, relaxed…he even stopped to flirt with the front office worker, just to make things seem more normal.

He didn’t unfold the note until he had driven back to Johzenji’s house, in the protection of his own territory.

 

_Terushima-kun: I put Shibayama into hiding. He’s safe. Please discreetly alarm the other omegas of the situation, but make damn sure that they continue to act like he’s missing in action—this will set things into motion very quickly, and I have alarmed Fukurodani of the current predicament. Be ready for anything, and keep your friends close._

_—Yaku_

 

“Damn you for making all the exciting things happen!” Terushima cried, ripping the note up into a thousand pieces to prevent anyone from reading it. “Its barley been half a day!”

Before Yuuji even had time to think of a game plan, the phone in his car rang. He froze at the noise, as there was only one person who would call him right now, at eight at night, when the sun was still out:

 

Haru.

 

“Terushima!” The omega wailed as soon as Yuuji put the phone to his ear. “Yuki hasn’t come home, and I can’t find him anywhere, and Konoha is gone, too!!! We have no idea where they are, we think Suguru took them both, and we don’t know where they were taken, a—!”

“Haru, calm down—where are you right now?”

“I don’t know, I don’t know,” Takeharu sobbed. “By the hospital…by…by the burnt building…”

“Stay there, okay? Understand? Don’t go anywhere, I’m on my way.” Terushima ordered, hitting the gas so hard his tires spun out. “Stay there, Haru.”

There was more crying and panicked pleas on the other end, telling Yuuji to hurry, to come help them find Yuki and Konoha. The second missing person had Terushima actually very concerned—had Suguru really retaliated that quickly? Had the information already been leaked by random witnesses? It was possible. Konoha could actually be suffering as they spoke…for that reason, Terushima kept Haru on the line. He had never heard him act like this before—sure, he had seen him cry and wail before, but this was chilling. It was out of character. Even though Yuki was missing, Terushima had just almost pictured Haru as the anxious, serious type…he expected Haru to be cold, cut-off, willing to do anything to get Yuki back. Maybe it was the fact that Konoha, the oldest of the group, was missing as well—maybe the fact that the one who had survived the longest was missing that really pushed Haru to hysteria.

 

Either way, when Terushima whipped around the corner and spotted the omega, the sight was not pretty.

 

Haru was standing on the corner of the hospital, waiting for Yuuji to show; Ennoshita was just coming out of the hospital, presumably searching for his friends inside; Tadashi was coming down the street across biting his nails, and Arata…was sitting on the sidewalk at Haru’s feet. His face was blank, like he had already cried all of his emotions out.

It looked like he had already given-up on finding either of his best friends alive and well. The only other time the omegas had gone through this was years ago, and it ended with Tanji receiving an employee for life, and one less Rose to boss around; for the group, that was one less friend to protect, to have and to hold in their cruel life. The chances of Shibayama being tortured or raped or drugged were _painfully_ high, and the chances of Konoha being dead in a ditch somewhere were almost reaching the 90 percentiles—

Yeah. The Delicate Roses were pretty stressed out.

Terushima exited the car quickly, but didn’t immediately call out for the omega; this was a very public square. Suguru could get information from anyone, at any store, at any time—this was not a good place for a scene, especially when the news had to be getting around by now that not one, but _two_ of Tanji’s omegas were missing. Unfortunately, Haru’s desperation for comfort and good news sent him into a complete personality change, and as soon as he laid eyes on the alpha, he went flying towards him, sobbing, a mess of stutters and blubbering.

“Terushima,” Haru cried, hugging the cropped-haired gangster as tightly as possible. “We can’t find them _anywhere_ , Terushima. Please help…please help us…”

“Shhh…it’s okay…you have to calm down, Haru…you have to calm down so I can tell you something. Can you do that for me?”

“No…no, we have to find them…”

 

_Shit. Not good, not good…that bitch Suguru could be watching us, but Haru’s not going to stop…_

 

Terushima bit his tongue before leaning back, taking Haru’s face firmly in between his hands; the omega still remained delusional with worry, but Yuuji felt he at least had his attention.

 

“I know where Yuki is.” He whispered, _so_ quietly Haru almost didn’t hear. But that phrase, the one he wanted to hear more than _anything_ in the world, was enough to make his breath hitch, his eyes focus.

“What?” He whimpered.

“I know.” Terushima said. “I know. So just calm down, okay? Just for a second. I need you guys to keep acting like you are, but I want you to know that he’s safe. Do you understand, Haru?”

The omega’s mind grasped the situation quickly, and before he could release the breath he had been holding for over five-hours, Terushima shoved him back into his chest, as to hide his real reaction. _Pretend like you’re still comforting him_ , Yuuji reminded himself. _Well, you really are comforting him, because he’s like your bestie/omega, but still; keep acting like you’re worried. It might not be enough to convince Suguru, but we can at least try. We have to keep trying, for Shibayama and Konoha’s sake._

Haru opened his mouth to say something, but found himself at a loss for words. Yamaguchi and Ennoshita had come back around to them, and Arata was now staring down the sidewalk aimlessly; _it’s okay_ , he tried to tell them. _It’s okay…Shibayama’s okay…we’ll be okay…it’ll all b—_

 

“Konoha.”

“What?” Terushima said, yanking Haru backwards. The brown-haired boy couldn’t repeat the name however, because his mind was occupied by the image of none other than Konoha slowly making his way down the sidewalk, head down, posture stiff and angry.

“Konoha!” Haru cried, sprinting towards the other omega. “Konoha!”

Takeharu had never been so happy to hear the prostitute’s dull heartbeat as he tackled him to the ground, hugging and bringing him as close as humanly possible, ensuring that he wasn’t hallucinating.

“You’re alive!” Futamata cried happily. “We thought you were dead, Konoha, but you’re okay!!!”

 

 _I regret asking for some action, God_ , Terushima thought with a stressful sigh as he and the others ran towards the pair. _Please take it back. Well, only some of it…_

 

“Konoha!” Yamaguchi said tearfully, embracing him as Haru helped the missing omega to his feet. “I’m so happy to see you!”

“Where were you?” Chikara panted, expression distressed and irritated. “Well, it doesn’t matter, as long as you’re alright. You’re alright, aren’t you?”

Haru was torn between sad tears and tears of joy as he pulled away from Konoha ever-so-slightly; when he looked at the other, however, really looked at him for the first time since his finding…it became very clear that no—Konoha was definitely _not_ okay.

His eyes were bloodshot, but more importantly, _tired_. They were so _tired_ , both physically and mentally. His lips were loose from having been in the same position for hours, not speaking a word since Suguru assaulted him in the supply closet. Haru noticed that his hair was a bit disheveled, and his posture wasn’t slouched like usual, but just… _distant_. This was more worrying than the fact that no one had heard from him since he left for work that morning.

 

The worst part, though? Out of all of his concerned friends, who had been worried sick to their stomachs over him for endless _hours_ , Konoha addressed _Terushima_ first.

 

“Konoha?” Haru said quietly, fearing he may have triggered some sort of negative reaction from his friend by being so loud and emotional. “Are you hurt?”

Akinori’s dead eyes drifted to meet Terushima’s, who was currently trying to motion the omegas into his car.

“I think you guys are great, but I’m begging you…can we _please_ continue this reunion in my car with tinted windows?”

“You must know Komi.” Konoha said, startling everyone. Yuuji stopped to stare at the omega, unable to process the question. “Will you do me a favor?”

“Um…sure, but late—”

“Tell him not to come near me ever again.”

 

Haru gasped; Yamaguchi went a shade paler, Ennoshita’s eyes began to water, and Arata, who had decided to return to earth at that very moment, began to cry. Seeing Konoha like this was terrible, but…to hear such disdainful words come from his mouth, right when they were reuniting, after believing him to be dead?

It was heartbreaking.

For Akinori to be in this thought process now, of all times…it had to be something cooking in his mind for a hell of a lot longer time than a few hours, that’s for sure. This was a quick, prepared response to a situation so frightening, and Arata wasn’t sure he would ever recover from seeing it.

 

Konoha had made a decision after being assaulted by Suguru; maybe it was the alpha’s sickening scent affecting him so, but mostly, it was the fact that even after this horrible, scarring incident…

 

Nothing would change.

 

Nothing would change for Konoha. Not if he went to Tanji, not if he cried and admitted the entire incident to his friends…nothing would help. Daisho always got what he wanted, and Konoha never did; he was always on the short end of the stick, the wrong side of town. When had Konoha’s life ever gone right for him? When was it going to get any _better_?

Never. Nothing would _ever_ change for the better.

Konoha was exhausted. Simple as that. He decided that the most pain in his life right now, the thing draining all of his energy was Komi and his damn optimism, his damn handsome smile and his damn cute height. These beautiful daydreams were why Konoha was hurting _so badly_ right now, and so, he sought to put an end to them. He was now going to live hour by hour, and for this hour, he decided that he wanted to eliminate this pain problem once and for all.

 

He was trying to change _anything_ he could get a grasp on, if only for a split-second.

 

Yuuji blinked once, then tried to reply.

“Uh…I…I guess I could…”

“I don’t want someone like him being around me, teasing me with these thoughts of a possible paradise on earth.” Konoha continued, his voice weak and furious at the same time. “Next time you see him, tell him to stay away. Okay?”

Terushima couldn’t respond. Akinori took a few last glances at his friends, then sealed the deal by pushing through them and walking in the other direction.

 

“I’m going home,” He said finally. “I’m going home, because that’s _my_ reality…I’ll see you guys later.”

 

Konoha walked away without another glance.

 

The entire group was completely shaken by this conversation; Haru couldn’t move, couldn’t even begin to fathom what this meant for their bond. Terushima himself, who had seen _murders_ , _homicides_ before, couldn’t bring himself to Konoha’s level of understanding, his horror, his ultimate answer, in fear that he would be sucked inside that endless pit of sorrow himself; that was a location he never wanted to be again, but he couldn’t stop the terrifyingly concerning thoughts flashing through his mind at a dizzying pace.

 

Not only was the entire group of Delicate Roses falling apart, but now their leader, the most experienced out of all, was practically _quitting_. Konoha had walked away from the group, and refused help. The omega’s mouths were still hung open in complete shock.

 

 _This is **not** good_ , Terushima thought darkly, putting an arm around Haru. _This is not good **at all**._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Stay tuned!


	13. Decisions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Decisions...broken decisions...

After all the stressful events that had happened throughout the day, Takeharu was in much need of a good homecooked meal, comfort, and a comfy bed to sleep in. Terushima insisted that he and the other omegas come to his place to eat, but the others decided to just go home and hide themselves from society, and from Konoha. They all embraced each other before leaving, and the sight just about cracked Yuuji’s heart; he hated seeing the omegas like this. Even after quickly giving them what little information he had on Shibayama, they still seemed on the verge of breaking down, and they didn’t have to act to make it seem like they still didn’t know. Their pain was real—anyone could have seen that.

Haru was completely silent on the way home. Terushima began to think that he might have blamed _him_ for whatever happened to Konoha, and for Yuki now being in trouble with Tanji. The omega didn’t give any explanations, only stood close to the alpha as they secretly found their way to Terushima’s apartment, ensuring that nobody spotted them.

 

With how much of a hit Haru’s mental state had taken today, it wasn’t surprising that he didn’t eat a lot; missing Roses was no laughing matter. They had a special and strict system amongst themselves that ensured their whereabouts at all times of the day; for several people to break this system within the course of an hour sent a shock through the remaining omega’s nervous systems, frying their hope and raising their anxiety levels. Even though he wanted to go home and comfort Konoha over whatever had happened to him, Haru also knew that Terushima’s scent was the only thing keeping him from crying again; he scooted closer to the alpha as they sat on Yuuji’s new mattress together, making the alpha smile.

“Not hungry?” He asked Haru, who shook his head. “Wanna talk about today?”

“…Why did Konoha say that?” The omega whispered, holding himself tighter. “What do you think happened to him?”

“I have a guess,” Terushima sighed deeply. “And it involves a snake named Suguru Daisho.”

“Suguru?” Haru said in alarm, looking over at Yuuji. “You know him?”

“Johzenji and I have been investigating him since he arrived in Tokyo.”

 

Haru had to look away to avoid seeing the image of Terushima and Suguru together; the idea of them being friends made him so sick he thought he was going to pass-out. What if Terushima felt sorry for Suguru? What if they became best friends, partners in crime? What if…what if Yuuji joined his team? What if he began using Haru? What if he made things _worse_ for Haru?

 

“Since we’re already in terrible moods…can you tell me something, Haru-kun?” Terushima asked seriously, staring at the ceiling. “What does Tanji want to get out of a knotting freebee?”

“I…I think he…I think he thought that by now, he would have a lot of omegas to choose from.” Takeharu explained, sniffling once. “I think he planned on using the list to write down who the Body Electric could live without, so that he could offer them up as sales, basically…he thought…he thought omegas would start coming to him and offer their services, I guess. Why?”

Terushima’s jaw became tight and stern.

“Konoha’s the only one on that list,” He said slowly. “…I think that’s enough reason for him to be acting the way he is.”

 

Haru already knew that was true—he just didn’t fully believe it until Terushima said so, too. The disenchanted omega leaned his head forward and buried his nose in Yuuji’s neck, sucking in the tangy scent that eased his fried nerves immediately. Terushima was broken out of his trance and glanced down, giving Haru a look of admiration; he leaned his head as well, and made the omega shiver as he grazed the tip of his nose around the other’s scent glands. Man…if alcohol couldn’t get him drunk, Haru _definitely_ could. Yuuji made a note of it for future reference, and as he brought his hand up to cradle the omega’s cheek, he felt the knots of stress irritating Haru’s neck.

“Is your neck sore?” Terushima asked, leaning back.

“No more than usual.”

“Want me to crack it for you?! I have magic hands! Bobata lets me give him massages every month!”

Haru laughed at the image, but shook his head to decline politely.

“No, that’s not ne—”

“Here,” Yuuji said, crawling over to position himself behind Futamata. “Just let your body relax, and I’ll do the rest.”

Haru’s eyes widened when Terushima grabbed his jaw, getting ready to jerk the neck loose.

“Terushima,” He began seriously, almost panicking. “D—”

“Ready? And…”

 

Before Haru could respond, Yuuji’s hands abruptly pushed his head left, resulting in his neck snapping to the side and giving a loud crack. A terrified gasp escaped the omega’s lips, his hands shooting up to defend his neck from harm; a tingling sensation spread throughout his spine, and Haru was sure Terushima had just killed him.

 

“There!” Yuuji cheered. “Good as new!”

Silence.

“Does it feel better, Haru?”

A large, anticipating sniffle brought alarm to Terushima, who leaned over his friend to see what was the matter.

“Are yo—”

Takeharu shot out of his range and threw himself right into the safety of the pillow on the other side, burying his head into the fabric as he gave little cries of fear, his heart racing wildly, his breath trying to recover from the peril of the situation. If there was any petty thing outside of Tanji’s world that managed to scare Haru to death, it was the idea of having his neck broken.

 

“Shit, Haru!” The alpha exclaimed in panic, hopping over to the omega. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you like that! I’m sorry, baby…I would never break your neck, I _swear_ , Haru. Please forgive me…I’m sorry…”

Haru continued to sniffle to himself, but his body was relaxing ever-so-slightly from the trauma, Yuuji lightly hovering over him as a form of protection, though he had been the cause of the omega’s stress.

“Jeez…I’m really sorry, Haru.” Terushima mumbled, though there was a ghost of an amused smile on his lips. “Helping people face their fears is one of my worst flaws.”

“W-Well,” Futamata sniffled, bringing his face out of hiding. “I don’t mind that…j-just don’t make m-my neck face his b-biggest fear, o-okay?”

“You got it.” Yuuji grinned. “So…I take it you don’t like massages?”

“N-No.”

Terushima bit back another laugh, but Haru caught him this time.

“It’s n-n-not f-funny!” He squeaked.

“You’re laughing too! Come on…it’s a _little_ bit funny, Haru, you gotta admit.”

“N-No!”

“Man, you’re really stubborn when you’re embarrassed, huh?”

 

Haru popped Yuuji in the gut, which only made him laugh harder; the omega gave a pained, but genuine smile when Terushima dramatically fell over top of him, pretending his stomach was in agony.

The pair decided to lay in that position for a while longer, and Terushima was careful to avoid touching the other’s neck, though he sent calming waves of his scent against the delicate skin as a way of comfort. Haru would have been content to sleep in Yuuji’s arms and pretend like nothing was wrong in the world, but a familiar sight caught his special attention.

 

“I-Is that Yachi’s box?”

“Huh?”

Haru pointed to the object carefully wrapped in red silk sitting on Terushima’s dresser.

“Oh…yeah, it is.” Yuuji nodded. “I haven’t really had time to open it lately.”

“How about now?”

“…N-Now?”

Haru giggled over the fact that even Terushima was capable of being taken by surprise and stuttering.

“Yeah. Now’s a good time…we’re both stressed, about to be involved in a blood-thirsty battle between yakuzas…Yachi’s scent would be nice right now.” He said quietly.

Yuuji stared at the box for a long moment before returning his gaze to Haru. His smile was pained, but content.

“You’re right. Wanna go get it?”

 

Takeharu squirmed his way off the bed and walked over to the dresser, cautiously carrying the fragile box back to the bed. He and Terushima unwrapped it together, but paused once Haru put his hand over the key hole.

“What else is in there?” Yuuji asked breathlessly, staring at the box.

“…Let me show you.”

 

Haru took a deep breath, and opened the box.

 

A warm wave of Yachi’s old scent came rushing into the air, making both boys lean down to capture more of it; Terushima began to panic over how long Haru was holding the box open for, and frantically glanced between the two.

“What about her scent?!” He asked quickly. “Won’t it go away?”

“We’ll take one object out at a time, alright?”

“…Okay. Yeah, that’s cool.”

Haru quickly glanced over the objects, selecting one that would mean the most to Yachi’s older brother. The box was closed a second later, and Yuuji’s eyes widened to the size of saucers when the omega held out a pair of dirty pink socks with bunnies printed on them.

“Those…those…”

“Yachi’s,” Takeharu said, eyes shining as he stared at the tiny socks. “She wanted to keep them safe because they were her favorite.”

Terushima, as scared as he was, held his palms out for Haru to lay Yachi’s clothing on them. The fabric was so soft, still…even after all those years of being cooped-up in a box, they _still_ held her scent, almost her shy, joyful attitude while she wore them. It was nothing short of incredible. Yuuji brought them up to his face, noticing the dull heels, the little holes spread amongst the fabric, the single tear in the lace at the ankle.

 

“What else?” He whispered.

 

Haru took the socks back, and pulled out a piece of faded yellow paper next.

 

Terushima’s fingers had a slight tremble as he accepted the picture, which was an all-too-familiar drawing of Yachi and her older brother. He recognized the style. A jolt of light pain shot through his heart, but he couldn’t prevent the smile that came to his lips. Yachi was wearing a dark blue dress in the picture, holding hands with Terushima, whose hair was amusingly accurate to the style he wore it in as a pre-teen. They sky was blue and had birds flying overhead, and the image was finished by the adding of a large oak tree next to Terushima, the same tree they used to play on growing-up in Johzenji.

“Yachi loved that tree,” Yuuji said, pointing it out to Haru, who stared at the alpha in sympathy and admiration. “She always loved to watch me climb to the very top and wave down at her…we practically lived on that thing every summer before she disappeared.”

“Will you take me to it someday?” Haru whispered.

Terushima smiled.

“Sure.”

 

Haru gave a nod, trying to hold back his tears, and took the picture back, replacing it with one of the final objects in the box: a dried yellow flower that Yachi had planned to use as a bookmark.

 

“She loved reading,” Terushima said before Takeharu could explain, carefully taking the flower between his fingers. “Never knew she cared for the color yellow, though…that was probably the only one she could find, huh?”

“Mhm…but I think it grew on her a little bit. I remember one time she said that the sun was making her like the color yellow, because when it shined down in the alleyway, it made everything glow.”

“Leave it to Yachi to make the best of a situation like that.” Yuuji murmured.

Before he could ask another question, his main phone rang off the hook, making Haru flinch. Terushima carefully returned the flower, as to preserve the scent, and hurried over to answer the phone.

“Hello?”

“It’s Bobata.” The voice said. “Tanji heard about Shibayama. We think he’s going to go over to the omega’s apartment complex within the hour.”

“Thanks.”

He hung-up as quickly as possible and went back over to Haru.

“Damnit—you shouldn’t be here.” Yuuji growled in irritation at the fact. “We don’t want Tanji to cut you guys off from civilization because _you_ were unaccounted for as well. Come on—I’ll take you home.”

Haru didn’t argue, and carefully placed the treasured flower back into Yachi’s box, closing it quietly, as to not disturb her spirit’s slumber. Terushima took his hand and led him back outside, slipping his jacket over the omega’s shoulders as they got into the Ferrari.

“Suguru probably knows more about us at this point,” He said, hurriedly turning the key. “In fact, he might even know about _us_ by now. I’m gunna call Tanji—nothing stopping them from figuring out our phone number anyway. Might as well be the first to initiate…”

Haru stayed completely silent, fearing the confrontation between his captor and his savior. He listened very closely as Ushijima answered on the other line.

“Ushijima, this is Terushima, from Johzenji; I want you to inform Tanji-sama that I’m escorting Takeharu back to his apartment. I found him wandering around the sidewalk looking for Shibayama, so I thought it be best if he were inside, safe.”

“I will inform him right away. Thank you.”

Yuuji raised an eyebrow as the man hung-up without another word.

“Chatty guy.”

 

Haru almost managed a smile as Terushima sped through Tokyo, wondering what the omega was thinking.

 

“Um…why did you tell them I was wandering around?” Futamata asked cautiously.

“Because if Tanji knew you were with me, which he probably already does, he would be irreversibly suspicious.” Yuuji explained. “I’m sure he already suspects us to be behind Shibayama’s disappearance, but it never hurts to kiss ass…although, if someone’s watching your apartments right now, my lie basically fucked-us over.”

 

Within a few short minutes, they were parked in front of the apartment complex. Haru had been considering something for a few minutes now, but wasn’t sure if he had the courage to do it. His emotions were running high today, and he wasn’t sure he could handle his plan blowing-up in his face; there was always a chance that it could ruin what they had built so far, what with Terushima being an alpha and all…

 

“I’ll walk you up,” Yuuji said, unbuckling his seatbelt. “As cute as you look in my jacket, that snake Suguru will smell me from a mile away, and that means nothing but tro—”

Before he could finish that sentence, Takeharu quietly laid a smiling kiss on his cheek. A tingle of energy and sedation coursed through Terushima’s veins, making his eyes flutter closed dreamily. Haru’s lips left his skin with a giggle.

“Thanks for always helping me out like you promised, Yuuji.” The omega whispered sincerely. “You don’t know how much it means to me…how much _you’re_ starting to mean to me…”

 _Well…I’m cornered in my own car with an unfairly attractive omega_ , the alpha thought. _What else can I do as a defense but tell a joke?_

“…You mean to tell me that I haven’t yet managed to make you fall _desperately_ in love with me?”

Haru’s bubbly laugh released any remaining tension left in the air, and Yuuji finally found enough strength to open his eyes. He was greeted with a bright smile and the return of his suit jacket.

“Be careful, okay?”

“Uh…yeah. You too.”

“Goodnight!”

“Yeah…goodnight.”

 

Takeharu didn’t really understand the depth of his own warning; Terushima could have been shot the second Haru turned his back. Terushima’s car could’ve had a bomb strapped to the engine. Terushima could be gunned down when he went home, or attacked in his own bedroom. Haru didn’t realize any of these things, because to him, Yuuji was invincible. He wasn’t someone who anyone could ever picture being dead; there was too much energy to be released, too many things to be doing…despite his humanity, the fact that made him vulnerable to all evil things in the world, Haru’s simple warning created a heavenly veil around Terushima, protecting him from darkness.

The alpha listened carefully, hearing Haru open the door to his apartment, where he was greeted mildly by his roommates. Only then did he slump back in his seat and give a huge romantic sigh.

 

“Shit,” Terushima said, both happily and in confusion. “I must be in love.”

 

~~~-~~~

 

The following morning was one of bad decisions for a particular group.

 

Tanji’s men had arrived at the apartment complex within minutes after getting a call from Terushima Yuuji, and by the time they arrived, all Roses were accounted for, with the exception of Yuki Shibayama. Nobody asked the Roses where he was, because even outside the apartment, the distressed and worried scents coming from under the door were powerful enough to realize that they had no idea where he was. Ushijima thought he smelled alpha inside as well, but Goshiki made the point that no alpha in their right mind would tempt Tanji’s omegas at a time like this. While this was true, Washijo still had reason to believe that someone within Tokyo was working against him—maybe even trying to seduce his omegas to another loyalty. This was reason enough to call a short meeting in his office the following morning.

 

“Semi—contact Ushijima, Goshiki, and Tendo. Tell them not to let the Roses leave their apartments.”

“Yes, Tanji-sama.”

With Semi leaving the room, there was no one left at Shiratorizawa’s headquarters that morning but Suguru Daisho and Tanji Washijo, who locked eyes with each other immediately.

“Well. I’m sure you’ve heard about Yuki Shibayama’s kidnapping.” Tanji said roughly, shuffling papers on his desk to distract from his anger. Suguru, who was coolly leaning against the doorframe, stared off into space as he answered casually.

“Mm…didn’t know it was a kidnapping, though. How do you figure that?”

“Yuki is the most spineless out of the Roses,” Washijo spat, standing up to pace the room. “There’s no way he could have ran away on his own…someone must have convinced him. It must have been someone out of our clan or within, maybe even one of the Roses—of course I know the solution to his disappearance, but I wasn’t expecting to send a blow like this so early in this Rose’s career…”

Suguru wasn’t interested enough to ask whose career he was speaking of.

Washijo paused; his pace slowed, and he angled his eagle head to stare at Daisho, his eyes darker than usual. He seemed to be debating something, or picturing something in his mind; Suguru looked back, knowing that Tanji lived off direct eye contact, especially with one of the only people who respected his talents and company. Shiratorizawa’s leader made a bitter decision, but…having Yuki back in his clutches was worth giving-up the person he had in mind for breeding with Suguru. Yuki brought in a lot of money, and not everyone would be lucky enough to find a suitor willing to breed someone as low-class as they were—besides…it was about time to develop some new faces amongst the Delicate Roses. Three Roses had now been taken from Washijo’s plan. First Yachi, then Mika, now Yuki.

What better time to start anew than now?

 

“Bring Yuki Shibayama to me,” Tanji said. “And I will give you Akinori Konoha.”

 

Suguru’s excitement was caught, and he pushed himself off the doorframe, standing straight up with serious intent.

“You’ll give me Konoha if I bring Shibayama back to you?!”

“You will get him either way, whether you bring back Shibayama or not.”

Daisho’s eyes widened even more, and a disgusting, crude smile appeared on his lips. He saw a thousand images of Konoha in his mind, almost growing hard over the fact that after all these fantasies, this pining…Konoha was finally _all_ _his_.

Before he could get too caught-up in his own lust-filled daydreams, Tanji began venting over the possibilities of Yuki’s sudden strike of courage.

“I know he’s been working for Yaku Morisuke at the Traveling Cat,” Washijo spat, pacing the room once again. “I’m sure he had something to do with it…and if Nekoma is behind this sudden act of rebellion, that means Fukurodani is as well. And if _that_ is true…Karasuno must be conspiring against us. That can be the only explanation for all of these incidents.”

“Nekoma,” Suguru laughed under his breath. “My old enemies…it’s been a while since I’ve sparred with them. If you’d like, I can check them out myself; it wouldn’t be difficult to get invited into their little clan…they’re very polite boys, you know.”

“I don’t care what you have to do,” Tanji hissed, checking his tone a second later. “It’s already obvious that you’ll be in pursuit of Yuki, but don’t make it so obvious. Or maybe we won’t even be able to get that far…maybe Johzenji will be sent out to distract us again, though everyone knows more about this current situation than they appear to…”

“So you are aware that Johzenji’s boys have been hanging with the rest of the Roses?”

Washijo’s fiery eyes shot over to Suguru’s, though they didn’t seem completely taken-aback. He looked away to gather himself, then released a deep sigh through his flaring nostrils.

“My suspicions…were correct. I shouldn’t have doubted myself, but that’s all in the past now—this could be an opportunity for new beginnings. I know that someone found the body of Yachi, and I know that one of those Roses informed someone about the location of my warehouse behind us…but…none of that matters now, because as soon as Konoha disappears, Yuki will come crawling back to us, and whatever conspiracy behind these kidnappings will be shut down.”

Tanji abruptly turned to face Daisho.

“That is…if you agree to these terms, Suguru-kun.”

“So…either way, whether I find Yuki or not…I get to have Konoha as my mate?”

“Mate would convey the concept of being equal, but if you wish to call him that, I suppose it’s your decision…” Washijo replied slowly.

 

The snake hitman smiled at the soon-to-be-true image of Konoha stuffed full of his pups.

 

“I think the answer is obvious, Tanji-sama,” Suguru cooed in comfort. “I humbly accept your most gracious offer.”

 

~~~-~~~

 

And what was the “missing” omega Yuki Shibayama doing at this time? Well…after becoming bored of watching TV for six hours, he began innocently sneaking around in Yaku’s closet.

 

The only thing wrong about these sneakings was that Lev kept ruining the position of everything Shibayama placed back into its rightful position; hopefully, Yaku wouldn’t question it, and go to the immediate conclusion that Lev was messing with him again. The pair was getting along swimmingly while Morisuke was dealing with yakuza things, though he claimed he was at the Traveling Cat; Lev joined Shibayama for his meals (leftover white rice), his TV wanderings, and even sat in the bathroom when Yuki took a shower. He enjoyed the company, and was thankful that he had plenty of distractions from the current situation.

Earlier, when he was close to having a panic attack over the dramatic possibility of Tanji killing every last of his friends in order to discover his whereabouts, Shibayama scanned through one of the nearest books on the coffee table; in actuality, what he had grabbed was not a book, but a scrapbook of Yaku. The omega could have died from how adorable mini-Yaku was, all dressed-up in his tiny shorts, ready for the first day of second grade…his face was exactly the same, just a bit rounder, and his hair was shorter, with careful spikes slicked-up by hair gel, which made Shibayama laugh harder than he had in a long time. There were samples of his handwriting, his coloring skills, and even a small bag of baby hair from his first haircut—Shibayama was amused at how short Yaku was, even as a child, though he understood his pain, since he was still in the same position in his early twenties. These pictures and the fact that Morisuke had a “I Love Cats” t-shirt entertained and pleased the omega, who was growing more and more desperate for the current perilous situation to be ended so that he could live freely, hopefully, with Yaku by his side.

 

To distract from the anxiety he was feeling right now, Yuki was going through the articles of clothing in Yaku’s closet. It was mostly filled with suits, _really_ fancy suits, which made Shibayama curious; he wondered if he would look good in a suit, and even considered trying one of Yaku’s on, since they were practically the same size. In fact, he was wearing an old t-shirt of Morisuke’s right now, since the clothes he had been wearing were in the washer.

 _I want to see Yaku-san wear suits more often_ , Yuki thought to himself, humming as he felt each smooth, sharp fabric of the suits. _Maybe I’ll get him a new tie for his birthday; he seems to like the color red, so maybe I’ll get him a red one with a funny pattern on it. A cat one would be hilarious—I bet he would wear it, too._

_Yaku-san’s so cool…_

 

Another look at the clock showed that it was nearing six in the afternoon; according to his note, Morisuke would be home by seven. Even though Shibayama guessed he would be held-up by whatever the heck was going on with Tanji-sama, he decided that it would be nice to repay Yaku’s kindness by making him dinner. His kitchen was easy to understand, and everything was reachable for Yuki’s short legs, which he greatly appreciated. A life with this alpha was becoming more and more clear in his imagination.

Before starting dinner, the omega read over the note Yaku left a few more times, as it had yet to fail to bring a smile to his face.

 

_Shibayama—please help yourself to anything in the house. If Lev drinks all of his water, please refill his dish for me; for your own safety, refrain from playing loud music or drawing the blinds all the way up. Again, help yourself to anything in the house…it’s technically almost-half yours, if you really think about it, so don’t worry about a thing. I should be home around seven, and I apologize if I am not able to contact you, should I get distracted or involved in something last-minute. Please don’t worry about anything—I am doing my very best to keep you safe, so sit tight, and try to get some rest. Not that you need it to look better or anything…but if you want to take a nap, you can do so in my bed. You know, if the scent isn’t too overwhelming…_

_Have a nice day._

_—Yaku_

 

Yuki smiled at the note for the hundredth time, and got to work on his dinner with a newfound determination.

 

By 7:05, Shibayama was just finishing up the omurice when Yaku came through the front door, making sure to do the knocking system he used as a way of the omega knowing who was entering. Shockingly, neither Nekoma nor Fukurodani received a phone call or visit from Tanji Washijo—this wasn’t a good thing. That meant the bastard was up to something, that he probably knew that the others were conspiring against he and Suguru; Yaku was extremely stressed, and made a point to loudly tell everyone about his mother-in-law visiting, should anyone be listening in on their conversation. Hopefully, they would believe the lie, and wouldn’t be suspicious about the lights being on at Yaku’s home.

When he first walked into the house, eyes eagerly searching for Shibayama, he thought he was smelling a rush of the omega, but after further instincts set-in, he realized the scent was omurice. Still, Morisuke figured the smells could be combined, and set towards the kitchen to discover the source.

Shibayama was just transferring the omelets off the pan and onto the plates; it took the alpha a moment to figure out what was going on. For a second, he thought he had walked into the wrong house.

 

The omega spotted Yaku and lit-up, giving him a nervous smile.

“Hi Yaku-san!”

“Hey…you…you made dinner?”

“I hope that’s alright,” Yuki said, smile vanishing. “I just thought I’d better repay you, you know, since you’re…well…so nice to me. And since we’re—yeah…”

“Yeah,” The alpha laughed, taking his suit jacket off. “Omurice sounds good after the long day I had.”

Shibayama set down the plates beside each other, giving Yaku a concerned look.

“Was it really bad? Are my friends okay? Did Tanji-sama call?”

“They’re all fine—we have a few of Johzenji’s people watching the apartments, though those are being patrolled by Tanji’s men…to be honest, I’m shocked that no dramatic incidents have happened yet. I thought for sure Tanji would call us today.”

Yuki didn’t comment, but looked worried; he was rubbing his fingers together and blinking rapidly, his teeth digging into his bottom lip.

“Why don’t you take a seat,” Yaku said, melting at the sight of the concerned omega. “There’s nothing we can do right now, so we might as well enjoy our meal. Thank you for cooking, by the way…you do know you’re not obligated to pay me back for anything, right?”

Shibayama smiled loosely, shyly hovering next to the alpha as the latter dug into his meal.

“Um…do you want me to sit on the other side of the table?” The omega asked, getting a confused glance in return. “Konoha and Ennoshita tell me that when they work as personal slaves, the people ask them to sit on the other side, because they don’t want them to feel equal to the alphas they’re working for.”

“You’re not my slave,” Yaku said quickly, severely. “You’re my omega.”

 

Yuki’s eyes widened, and Morisuke mentally cursed himself for being so out of it today. He was being paranoid, and it was making him protective.

 

“I…I mean…you _could_ be my omega…I didn’t mean that—I wasn’t—I wasn’t trying to…”

Shibayama sat down on the stool next to him, silencing his explanation.

“I made a different kind of omurice today,” He said casually, setting his napkin onto his lap. “If you don’t like it, that’s okay. I can make the usual kind.”

“…I’m sure I’ll love it no matter what…I’m not picky.”

The pair both took simultaneous bites of the Japanese dish, looking over at each other in contemplation.

“It’s got more tang than usual,” Yaku commented, nodding in approval. “I like it; good one, Shibayama!”

“Really?!”

The omega dug in, trying to find the same thing Morisuke found. Yaku smiled fondly and continued to eat, though he was interrupted a minute later by Yuki’s questioning.

“So…if—when Tanji-sama is…out of the picture,” He said slowly. “What happens after that?”

“Well—I suppose you guys would start your own lives. Maybe get out of Tokyo, maybe go to school…you could keep your job at the agency, and go to school at night, if you wanted; you’d pretty much be in control of your own decisions for the rest of your life. How does that sound?”

 

Yuki’s expression of awe was enough to answer Yaku’s question. He smiled behind his fork, and a short silence fell between the two.

 

“Shibayama?” The alpha prompted a while later.

“Yeah?”

“If you want, you can start calling me Morisuke. Or you can switch between the two. Whatever you want.”

“Okay,” Yuki giggled lightly. “You can call me Yuki, too…or you can switch between the two. Whatever you want.”

Yaku didn’t hide his smile this time, and the pair returned to silence, content to eat their dinners quietly, as long as the person next to them was just as giddy as they were. Oh how strange things become when decisions become answerable…

 

Later that night, after watching an hour of TV together (Yuki decided that it was much more entertaining with someone to watch with), Yaku and Shibayama, the almost-couple, prepared for bed; last night, Yuki had been so overwhelmed and exhausted he fell asleep right on the couch. Tonight, Morisuke was determined to make the omega sleep in the bed, since he knew by experience that couches were not adequate back rests, and not built for sleeping long periods of time on. As soon as he recovered from seeing Yuki wearing his fuzzy white pajamas, he brought the subject up.

“You better take the bed tonight,” The alpha said, stopping Shibayama from exiting the bedroom. “I’ll use the foldout in the living room.”

“Oh no!” Yuki exclaimed in protest. “I couldn’t let you do that! That would be too uncomfortable for you!”

“Which is exactly why I’m not letting _you_ do it.” Yaku grinned.

 

The omega’s dark eyebrows furrowed together in thought as he looked around the room, trying to come up with a solution to this problem; Yaku thought pouty Shibayama was really cute, and he tried to make the most of the sight, knowing it was probably a rare occurrence.

 

“Well…if you’re okay with it, we could both sleep in the bed.” Yuki said suddenly, snapping Morisuke out of his daydream.

“The bed? Together?”

“Only if you’re okay with it! I mean, Haru and I sleep together every night, and sometimes Konoha and Arata all pile on our bed, too! But if you feel weird, I und—”

“If you’re okay with it, I’m okay with it.”

Shibayama snapped his mouth shut, and Yaku became concerned when that look of worry crossed his face, but it was put to rest when the omega hurried over to the bed and began climbing under the covers. Yaku took a moment to stifle his excitement, then turned the lights off, said goodnight to Lev, and climbed in beside him. His heart was racing, and he silently hoped Yuki couldn’t hear it.

“Sorry if I kick you,” Morisuke warned, face heating up for some unknown reason. “The bed’s pretty small, and my limbs flail when I sleep.”

“That’s okay,” Shibayama giggled. “Haru’s wayyyy taller than me, and our bed’s way smaller than this one!”

 

 _What?_ Yaku thought in disbelief. _Even my feet go off the edge of this mattress sometimes…Yuki sleeps in one smaller than this, and with another person? How does he get any sleep at night?_

 

Once both parties settled in, somewhat stiffly on their backs, the silence of the night surrounded them, causing Shibayama’s eyes to drift shut dreamily. Yaku swallowed nervously, hoping that his scent wouldn’t overpower the poor omega again, and that Lev wouldn’t freak him out by jumping on the bed at three in the morning, like he did every single day…it was a little strange, being in bed with Yuki, when the chaos surrounding them was dangerously close to bursting, exposing Tokyo to the underground yakuzas. Sleeping here beside the warm omega felt totally natural.

Yaku figured that meant he was in love with him. The thought didn’t scare him as much as it should have.

 

“Morisuke?” Shibayama whispered beside the alpha.

_Maybe I should rethink letting him call me Morisuke…_

“Yeah?” He answered with a dry mouth.

“Thank you,” The omega said genuinely. “I can’t…I can’t…even begin—” Yuki cut himself off, frustrated at his lack of explanation. “If I grab onto you during the night, please don’t get mad; I just do that because I’m used to holding Haru while he sleeps, okay?”

“Okay.” Yaku smiled, looking over at him. “And if I do the same—well…I don’t have an excuse. Just don’t get freaked out, okay?”

“Okay.” Yuki promised.

 

The next silence was more peaceful, but there was still one more thing to be mentioned.

 

“This is pretty strange, isn’t it?” Morisuke whispered with a chuckle. “Who would have thought after only a few weeks of knowing each other, that we’d be sleeping in the same bed together right now? …Sometimes I don’t understand life. But I’m really grateful, you know?”

Shibayama hung on his every word, though the alpha couldn’t see, because he had closed his eyes to avoid being embarrassed.

“I’m happy to be here with you, Shibayama; I think…I think since we’re able to share a bed like this, so early in our relationship…I think we’ve got a good chance of ending-up together—don’t you?”

Yaku wasn’t necessarily looking for a reply. He was really tired, and thinking about this would probably just make him even more stressed, so he whispered a goodnight and released a deep sigh through his nose. If needed, in case the security system didn’t work or was hacked, there was a handgun under the mattress— _hopefully_ , it wouldn’t be needed. Morisuke prayed that his first sleepover with Shibayama wouldn’t end fatally.

 

Yuki didn’t know how to explain his gratitude and understanding, or, really, _anything_ he wanted Yaku to know, but he wanted to do _something_ as to not leave the alpha hanging, so he scooted just a _little_ bit closer to the alpha, and closed his eyes.

 

“ _Goodnight, Yaku-san_.”

 

~~~-~~~

 

Deep into the night, both unaware and painfully aware of the danger lurking within the darkness, Konoha Akinori was taking his time walking back from his latest client. He tried to enjoy himself as much as possible, since he would probably be dead within the next 24-hours…but even Konoha couldn’t repress his true feelings. After suffering for so long, the idea of death sounded welcomed, and yet…Akinori didn’t want to die. He didn’t want life to be over. What had he to be proud about? Nothing. It seemed so silly to let death take him when he had had so little effect on the world so far in his life; he figured his divine purpose was to make a difference, and since he had yet to do so, Konoha stubbornly refused to let his guard down.

Despite his decision the day earlier, the omega daydreamed higher and higher tonight, his heart full of a strange emotion that needed releasing.

 

 _Such a sweet, sweet life_ , he thought, kicking a rock on the sidewalk. _Running around a field of a thousand flowers, feet getting tangled in their vines, singing with friends over the dirt of our lost friends…there’s a lot to live for. I’m practically not even a person—my personality is briefly there, covered-up by Tanji’s dictatorship, with Suguru’s threats and lust for my body. What kind of a person is that? Not a person at all—I’m maybe an ant, or a rat, or maybe even a child, but not a person. No…no person in their right mind would let someone rule their life like that. Then again, I wouldn’t know what my right mind is, because I don’t think I’ve been there since I was a kid; a stupid, innocent kid._

_Who is Konoha?_

_But…maybe…_

_Maybe if I die…I’ll find the person who I was supposed to be._

 

“Konoha!”

 

Akinori turned abruptly to find the source of the sharp yell. Storming down the street was none other than prince charming himself, Haruki Komi; he looked frustrated, irritated, and even a little upset. The omega paused his walking to stare at the alpha as he rushed over to where he was standing—each time Komi passed under a lightpost, Konoha found his eyes freezing more and more on the image, until suddenly, the world stood completely still. Everything was focused on this alpha, drawing a silent gasp from Konoha’s chest, which had tightened and loosened at the same time; a thousand beautiful things became known to him, beginning with Haruki.

Komi’s fuzzy top layer of hair was a shade darker than the finest russet color in the universe; it was amusing under normal circumstances, but right now, Akinori was thinking strangely, coming to the conclusion that maybe it stood for pride rather than fashion. His high, expressive eyebrows were angled downwards for the first time, his dazed, normally cool dark golden eyes uncertain; the omega realized he had never smelled the alpha before when Komi stopped in front of him and put his little hands on his hips, so close Konoha could see the glistening spit on his reddened lips.

_Those are nice lips…I bet they’re soft. I never get alphas with soft lips…_

 

Suddenly, those lips began to move at a rapid pace.

 

Akinori didn’t understand the language…because he had never loved before.

 

Komi was talking to Konoha, probably lecturing, and although the omega was staring at him, he heard not a single word. His ears had gone temporarily deaf. This… _alpha_ , this little, spunky alpha, was looking up at Akinori with pride, determination, and he was really damn cute while doing so. Is this what Konoha had been missing? Admiring people? Being _able_ to admire people? As a prostitute and a personal slave, he never really had much time, nor interest, in meeting or finding someone who he could enjoy being around. In the life of Konoha, there was no such thing as good company; he wondered how many people Komi had admired, who he became distracted by, who he wanted to know more about. He wanted to ask what that was like, so he could get it right in this short moment, before his focus was lost and the hell of reality returned.

Konoha wanted to know if Komi had ever thought about _him_ that way, if only for half a second. That would certainly be something to behold…that little piece of information might have saved the omega from his current train of thought. To be admired, sought after, daydreamed about—

 

_What a sweet, sweet life that would be…_

 

Konoha made another decision. The second he did, Komi’s final word broke through his daydreams like the enlightenment of a sinner. The invisible stars above them aligned, confirming the decision with a brush of soft air.

 

“...—…--…Konoha?”

 

The omega grabbed Haruki by the jacket, roughly placed both hands on the alpha’s jaw, and crashed their lips together in a fierce, passionate kiss.

 

Akinori had never kissed anyone before. Sure, he licked people’s tongues, slobbered his lips all over someone else’s, but he had never _kissed_ before. He wasn’t even sure if he was doing it right, but took experience from his daydreams, and let his instincts do all the work, though his feelings played a role in the transferring of passion from his body to Komi’s. His lips were smothering the alpha’s, moving and moving and moving, trying to suck up every inch of experience he could get; for a second, the other participant was almost too shocked to return the kiss—when it became clear that Konoha was not using this as a way to seduce the alpha, Komi slowly moved his lips in perfect timing with Akinori’s, not irritated by the fact that Konoha had to lean his head down in order to kiss him. The omega moved his head to the left, getting a different angle in order to deepen the kiss, surprising Haruki by only using his tongue once; Konoha’s cold hands were moving and pushing more and more, like he would die if he broke the kiss before it was long enough to be considered perfect. Komi’s scent and his collided, making both of them exhale sharply, in shock of the enticing combination—the reality of the situation, proven true by how rapidly Konoha’s heart was beating, sent nerves and overjoyed admiration through the omega’s blood. Despite the truth, whatever it may be that was happening at this moment, Akinori felt admired for the first time in his life.

 

For a second, it was almost too much to bear—but near the end, Konoha realized he wanted to feel this over and over and over again.

 

After a long, beautiful moment, the pair broke apart. The alpha was sure he had never felt so satisfied in his entire life, with Konoha only inches away from his face, eyes closed in ecstasy. When had either of them ever felt so… _real_? _Honest_? _Admired_?

 

“Thank you,” Akinori whispered breathlessly against Komi’s lips, a beautiful smile lighting up his face. He looked so damn happy… “Thank you for existing, Haruki Komi. Maybe…in another life…I could have been your loyal admirer.”

Komi could do nothing but stand there, stunned; there were so many things he wanted to say, but no words escaped his lips. After that entire lecture he just gave, _now_ he was speechless?

Akinori leaned away, his hands brushing over Haruki’s arm as he did so, sending a powerful tremble through the alpha’s responsive body.

“Have a good night, Komi-kun.” He cooed sincerely, slowly backing up. Haruki resisted the urge to pull him back. “Best wishes to you.”

 

As Konoha walked away, he walked with a quiet, newfound pride within his soul. His feet felt a little lighter. His knees weren’t as sore as usual. His hips didn’t ache with each step. Maybe it had been that kiss that had done the trick…well…either way…when the omega returned home that night, he didn’t feel the pressures of the world, weighing him down with decisions to be made. He didn’t make a single one. Suguru was gone from his mind. Tanji was all but erased from his memory. Did he care? Konoha wasn’t quite sure.

 

He was quite sure, however, that in a different world, he would have liked to be Komi’s mate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Such a sweet, sweet life...  
> Running around a field of a thousand flowers,  
> Feet getting tangled in their vines,  
> Singing with friends over the dirt of our lost friends...


	14. One Rose Less

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A petal falls off the rose...

By Friday, Yuki Shibayama had been missing for a solid four days. No one had seen him, been in contact with him, or heard anything true about his whereabouts. Dramatic things seemed to happen on Fridays, so the stressed omegas attended rehearsal reluctantly, having been hammered by Tanji and the choreographer for the entire week, since Yuki’s spot now had to be filled by creating an entirely new show. When the scary man left to get Arata new tights, since his had ripped on “accident,” the omegas began to talk amongst themselves, expressing their current concerns over the situation.

“Tanji’s acting too weird,” Ennoshita whispered from where he was pretending to stretch on the stage. “He hasn’t said a single word to us all week…do you think he knows that we don’t know where Shibayama-kun is?”

“I don’t know,” Arata shrugged, glancing over at Haru, who was biting his nails anxiously. “Have you heard anything, Haru?”

The other omega shook his head frantically, having not spoken to Terushima in a day, since Johzenji and Fukurodani were teaming-up with Karasuno for something—he had heard a rumor about them doing a hit in Nohebi, but didn’t want to get his hopes up, and so didn’t ask questions. He just wanted Yuki and Konoha to be happy. He hoped wherever Shibayama was, he was safe. He hoped wherever Konoha wandered to at night, Tanji didn’t know about. The omega had been skipping all of his clients during the week to do unknown errands until the early hours of the morning, but Haru knew Komi hadn’t talked to him in days, because the alpha kept trying to sneakily come to their apartment in hopes of speaking to the latter. With Ushijima, Goshiki and Tendo watching the perimeter, that was almost impossible.

 

Every-day situations were becoming perilous.

 

“I just hope nobody gets hurt,” Yamaguchi said quietly. “I hope Suguru just… _leaves_.”

“That would sure be the easiest way out of this, Tadashi.” Chikara sighed, giving his mate a nudge. “We can only sit back and hope for the best.”

“That’s my concern,” Takeharu spoke up, making everyone turn to him. “Our lives have always been dominated by the actions of others…the only people who know what’s best for us is us, and yet…other people are standing up for us. What if…what if they make the wrong decision? What if they mess up? What i—”

“I’m back, boys!”

 

All the omegas scurried onto their feet as the choreographer came hustling back in; unfortunately, the two people following him were an even _more_ nerve-wracking sight.

 

Tanji and Suguru weren’t speaking, but strolling slowly, their eyes glued onto the omega’s every move; Haru got distracted and had to be pulled to the side by the choreographer because he wasn’t paying attention. _What are they doing here?_ He wondered anxiously, fighting back bile rising in his throat. _Are they just going to watch us, or are they planning to interrogate us after we finish?_

The choreographer looked back at Tanji, who motioned for him to continue. The boys shuffled to their new spots and began practicing their new moves; Haru could hardly focus on his Umbrella Show dances when someone as unshameful as Suguru was standing twenty-feet away, eyeing over each of his movements. Ennoshita _refused_ to focus on his JFS moves when Yamaguchi had experienced a terrible run-in with Suguru last Friday night, and Arata…was trying not to cry. Each of the omegas could feel themselves being watched, analyzed, but none of them were sure if they should be trying to impress the pair to ensure their position in the Delicate Roses, or if they should be acting unimpressive as to make them think Shibayama was superior to them.

By the time they made a decision, their personalized routines were over, and the choreographer stopped the music.

 

Washijo leaned over to speak to Suguru, and the omegas all knew by heart that whenever Tanji spoke, everyone else had to be quiet, or risk getting their tongue chopped off. Today, his words were unusually loud; a moment later, it became clear that they had been that way for a reason.

He was sending them a message.

 

“Is there any to your liking, Suguru?” He asked.

“Nah…” The snake said slowly. “I think I’ll settle for Konoha.”

All the color drained from the Roses’ faces. Arata turned green the next second, and sprinted off stage to go throw-up.

“Excellent choice. I’ll arrange a meeting for tonight—I’m sure you’d like to go over a few things with him beforehand, and I have a few opinions of my own I want to make known.”

“Glad to hear it. Care for lunch? I’m buying; I heard about this great little Italian spot a few blocks over. We can go there, if you’d like, Tanji-sama.”

“That sounds fine.”

 

The two demons exited the _Body Electric_ , and only then did the omegas fall into hysteria.

 

“Oh my god!” Yamaguchi cried, clinging desperately to Ennoshita, who was biting his lip to keep from crying. The choreographer yelled for their attention, but he was utterly ignored behind their cries.

“ _Shit_!” Haru sobbed fearfully, immediately falling into a state of hyperventilation. “I-I-I—I g-gotta call Yuuji!”

“Not Konoha,” Arata forced out as he came crawling back onto stage, puke on his lips, hurriedly trying to find the nearest source of comfort. “ _Not_ Konoha…not _Konoha_ …”

A thousand sick images were flashing in their minds, images of Konoha being forced to have Suguru’s children, being forced to give birth until he had a male pup, being forced to lay with Suguru time after time after time, until his body was so worn and broken that he was left to rot away, being good for nothing else but a garbage bag…it was too much to bear. The omegas had gone through a lot of horror in their lives, had seen Mika be broken-hearted and murdered in cold-blood for a reward of money…but nothing compared to this. Nothing compared to witnessing their lifelong leader and friend Konoha be given away like a toy, to be used as a toy, treated like a _dog_ used for nothing but breeding, as far from a human being as possible.

 

Who in hell could _handle_ a situation as fucked-up as that?

 

The choreographer yelled louder, and even though Tanji heard as he stood outside of the club, he didn’t react, other than letting a tiny smile form on his lips. Suguru was beaming confidently beside him.

“Call him!” Tadashi ordered Haru frantically. “ _Call Terushima_!”

“Haru! Get back here!” The man yelled after him as the omega stumbled over to the phone. “And why haven’t you dyed your hair yet?!”

 

Takeharu desperately tried to regain his composure as the phone rang; he needed to stay calm. Konoha was still safe, because Suguru and Tanji were going out for lunch. There was still time. There was still time…

 

“Haru?” Terushima said on the other line.

Currently, he and Bobata, Komi, Bokuto, Takemota and Inukoa were parked a few blocks away from the Roses’ apartment complex, waiting for a sign of either Suguru or Tanji. Karasuno’s men and Fukurodani’s volunteers were on their way to Nohebi already, and would be there within a matter of minutes. They were waiting for their confirmation that the remainder of Suguru’s men were dead when the phone in Terushima’s car rang.

“ _Yuuji_ …” Haru said in relief and desperation. He took a second to gather himself, and Terushima sat straight up in his seat, capturing everyone’s attention. “Suguru p-picked Konoha—he’s going to knot him!! You have to find him b-before Suguru does… _please_ Terushima…p- _please_ keep him safe—”

“I will.” Yuuji promised in fury. “We’re going up to get him right now. Stay where you are.”

 

The alpha dropped the phone and jerked the car door open, followed by the rest of the group as he sprinted down the sidewalk and across the street, yelling back an explanation to the crew.

“Suguru picked Konoha as his knotting freebee!” He yelled in anger, taking out his handgun and ignoring the gasps of the citizens as he stormed towards the front door of the apartment building. “We’re getting him the fuck out of here before that bitch can find him!”

“Right behind you.” Bobata growled, readying his own gun.

Terushima pushed through the entrance, not seeing any of Tanji’s men surrounding the area.

“Split up! Taketora and Inuoka, floor one, Komi with me—we’re going straight to Konoha, understand? Bokuto, you and Bobata get our backs!”

“Yeah!”

The anger pulsating through the building was strong enough to let people on the upper floors know they were coming, and they were coming quickly; _Komi’s_ anger was surprisingly the strongest. Terushima could feel its heat jolt in his direction every now and then as they hurried up the staircase, three steps at a time—he understood the alpha’s fury. When someone with such a hopeful future was in severe danger of being enslaved, there was a lot on the line. Each second mattered. Each moment, each hesitation could have cost them Konoha’s life. Haru knew this too, and had easily convinced his friends to cut their dance rehearsal short and hurry to help Terushima. Arata broke off to search the Italian restaurant, completely barefooted, praying he would find Suguru and Tanji still there.

 

With all this fragile hope bouncing around, Terushima’s confidence was beginning to waiver—especially when they got to the Roses’ floor and found the hallways vacant.

 

“Where are they?” Yuuji hissed, stopping to hold out his gun, in case someone was hiding from them. “Do you see them?”

“No.” Komi answered, standing beside him. “They wouldn’t be inside, either…would they?”

“One way to find out.”

The two went forward cautiously, their fingers on the triggers at the ready; they decided to knock on the door first, just in case Konoha was in fact home and quite alone. After several seconds with no noise on the other side, Terushima nodded at Bokuto, who came forward to pick the lock. Yuuji knew they had several locks, but only ones that could be locked from the inside—it was actually a negative sign that the boys were able to enter having only picked one lock, which gave them the idea that nobody was home.

Opening the door, guns raised, the trio didn’t spot anything alarming.

Terushima stepped forward and yelled.

“This is Terushima Yuuji! Is anyone in here?”

 

No answer. But that didn’t mean anything.

 

“Check that bedroom, Komi.” Yuuji nodded at the second room. “Bokuto, the first. If you find Konoha, yell. If you find someone else…blow their hand off, then we’ll talk.”

 

The other alphas nodded stiffly and went to work as Terushima swiftly glanced around the kitchen and living room area, finding no one hiding behind or beneath the furniture. There was no sign of a struggle, either, which may have suggested that Konoha hadn’t been home in a few hours. Yuuji’s frustration was at an all time high when four minutes passed and there was no word from Bokuto or Komi. He came to a troublesome conclusion that just made their lives significantly more stressful:

 

Konoha was no longer here.

 

“Fuck.” Komi hissed from one of the bedrooms.

“What is it?” Terushima called.

Haruki came out a long minute later; he was holding a note in his hand, his jaw locked sternly. His eyes slowly trailed from off the note and up to Terushima, whom he held the paper out to. Terushima stared at him in dread before accepting the note, reading it out-loud to the ones who were entering the room, having find no sign of anyone of interest on any of the floors.

 

“ _Konoha is ours. Thank you for your participation. Do not underestimate Shiratorizawa ever again. Signed, TW_.”

 

Nobody cursed. Nobody threw anything or went into a fit of rage. They just stood there, dumbfounded, bitter over the fact that they had been watching the apartment like a bunch of idiots, and for absolutely _no_ reason, because Konoha was already gone. They didn’t know that Suguru had been stalking Akinori on his nightly adventures, as to make his desire grow, so that when they finally mated for the first time, their passion would be all that more memorable. He had been teasing himself with the ideas and images, and had snatched the omega hours prior to their little show at the club in front of the Roses. Konoha was currently at a not-so-secret location, waiting to be taken by Suguru, who was currently having a celebration drink with Tanji over his newly acquired mate.

Johzenji and their friends didn’t know that.

 

“It’s not Shiratorizawa we underestimated,” Terushima said suddenly, crumpling the note. “It was _Suguru_.”

“Suguru?” Bokuto asked. “But wouldn’t he need—”

“Terushima!”

Everyone quickly looked at the entrance of the apartment to see Haru running in with Ennoshita and Yamaguchi trailing behind him. They looked more serious than panicked this time around, and Futamata’s eyes were as Terushima would have expected them to be at such an intense moment: dark, fierce, and determined.

“Is he here?!” Haru asked quickly, rushing over to grab Yuuji’s arms. “I’m glad you’re not dead, but did you find him?! Do you know where he is?!”

“I think the better question is, do _you_ know where he is.” Komi said.

Everyone looked at the alpha in confusion.

“Huh?” Haru replied.

“Suguru chose Konoha, didn’t he?” Haruki said bitterly, coming forward. “Does Tanji have a place where these knotting freebees take place? Where is it? Do you know?”

“Well…he…he does, but we’ve never had to use it before, and I don’t know where it would be…”

 

The group stood in silence for a moment as Haru tried to remember if he had ever heard the location be mentioned, but his mind was drawing a blank. Tanji didn’t give information unless he wanted to, and Konoha had never spoken of it…

 

“Yuki,” Yamaguchi breathed.

Chikara snapped his head over to look at his omega.

“What?”

“Yuki knows.” He repeated quietly. “Shibayama knows where it is.”

 

~~~-~~~

 

“Haru, you and Arata come with me and Bobata,” Terushima ordered as they ran downstairs. “Ennoshita and Yamaguchi will go with Komi and Bokuto. Taketora and So, you follow us. We’re going to Yaku’s.”

Yuuji grabbed Haru’s hand and tugged him forward, though it wasn’t necessary, because the omega was trying to be as close to him as possible. Arata held Haru’s other hand while Bobata trailed behind them, frantically searching for anyone who might do them harm.

“Terushima, be careful.” Takeharu warned frantically, forcing Terushima to turn and look back at him. “Suguru’s… _good_ at his job. Don’t fall for his tricks.”

“I know. I’ll be careful. And we’ll get Konoha back in one piece—I promise.”

 

Haru nodded, and Yuuji pressed quick kiss to the side of his head as they exited the building. He was just about t—

 

“ROOFTOP!” Bobata screamed.

 

A bullet whizzed past Terushima’s shoulder, mere _inches_ away from his blazer. Bobata shot back before anyone could even respond, making Arata shuffle back into the safety of the building, eyes wide with panic as he realized Haru was still outside in the middle of the street.

“Fuck!”

Yuuji attempted to shove Haru back under the visor of the apartment complex, only for Haru to have thought the same thing, resulted in both of them tumbling to the ground, half-under the visor, half vulnerable to the shooter. Taketora and the others came running out just as the citizens began screaming bloody murder, ducking for cover and almost trampling Arata as he laid on the sidewalk, having stumbled onto his knees to try and protect Haru. Bobata didn’t see the shooter, but shot in the general direction from which the shot came from, on the top of the building to the left of the apartments, on the other side of the street. Once the others came out to back him up, he looked for Arata and stormed over when he saw that people were carelessly kicking and tripping over his body, not allowing him a second to get up.

“Arata!” He called, sprinting over as Terushima hurriedly pulled Haru to his feet. “Arata!”

The omega tried to sit up, and Bobata pushed through the panic of people and immediately shielded Tsucchi, lifting him up into his arms bridal style.

“Get them to the car!” Komi shouted, gun at the ready. “We see him running across the roof!”

“What if there’s more?!” Yuuji called back, prepared to take a bullet for Haru, who was clutching to his shirt protectively.

 

A few more bullets were fired, and Taketora yelled out.

 

“I got him!”

 

“Find out who he is!” Yuuji ordered, eyes blazing. “Bokuto, cover us!”

After connecting eyes with Bobata, who nodded fiercely, the pair grabbed onto their respected omegas and ran onto the street, barreling towards Terushima’s yellow Ferrari, which he _deeply_ regretted right now. It stuck out like a sore thumb…no wonder everyone in Tokyo knew Johzenji was here.

Thankfully, they managed to get into the car without being shot at again.

Bobata slid into the driver’s side after ensuring that Arata and Haru were safely tucked into the backseat, behind the tinted (and secretly bulletproof) windows; Terushima didn’t bother putting his seatbelt on, and gave one last look at Haru in the rearview mirror. Their eyes connected, but Haru didn’t look as scared as he should have been—he looked more concerned than anything, which baffled Yuuji, as he was used to this type of activity.

“You guys okay?” Kazuma asked breathlessly.

Neither of them answered, Arata because he couldn’t speak, and Haru because he was trying to figure out if the fear in Terushima’s eyes was real or not.

More commotion outside brought them back to reality, and their eye contact broke as Bobata started the engine.

 

“Step on it!”

“Where to?!”

“Yaku’s!” Terushima ordered. “Hurry!”

 

~~~-~~~

 

Yaku heard Terushima’s car before he saw it.

 

Jolting out his seat, where he was nervously pacing the kitchen as Shibayama ate in the bedroom, where there was only half a window, Yaku ran to the doorway, though didn’t immediately open the door. He waited until someone gave the knock, then peeked out to see Terushima standing there with Haru by his side.

“We need to speak with Shibayama,” Yuuji huffed. “ _Now_.”

“Hurry. Someone could be watching.”

 

As the pair came hurrying inside, checking over their shoulders, Morisuke tucked his handgun back into his waistband.

 

“Yuki?!” Haru tried to call quietly, running around the room frantically. As he peeked around the living room, trying to find his friend, Shibayama came cautiously creeping out of the bedroom, head lowered, eyes careful and a bit afraid.

“…Did someone say my name? Should I have stayed in—”

“Shibayama!”

Yuki barely had a second to reply before he was tackled into a hug by Haru, who was smiling for the first time that day.

“Yuki-kun, I missed you so much! I know it’s only been a few days, but I was so worried!”

“Haru…what are you doing here? What’s happened?”

“Konoha’s missing, Suguru took him.” Terushima said bluntly, making Yaku sigh. Yuki went pale, his arms going limp around Haru, who leaned back, but didn’t let go.

“S…Suguru…”

“We need to know where the knotting freebee house is so we can get to him before it’s too late. Yamaguchi said you know where it is.”

 

Shibayama’s mouth opened and closed, syllables escaping, but forming no words. Takeharu was just about to scent him in comfort, but Yaku walked forward and laid a hand on the omega’s free arm. Yuki froze at this, his darting eyes focusing on the alpha—Haru was stuck in a state of shock, and glanced over at Terushima, amazed at what he was witnessing. A calming, odd scent softly emerged into the room, seemingly coming from both Shibayama and Yaku. Yuuji himself thought that something had to have happened between the two prior to this moment—no way they were so comfortable with each other just after a few days…

“Where did Suguru take Konoha, Shibayama-kun?” Yaku asked gently.

“It’s…it’s a place uptown. About an hour from here.” Yuki explained. “I…Suguru was driving me home one night, a-and he drove past it…”

“Do you remember the address?” Terushima questioned.

“5th Avenue, right behind the building on the corner; it’s a big, tall building that looks like an apartment complex, but it was really an old hotel with only a few rooms for gangsters to hide out in.”

“Uptown?”

“Yes.”

“You’re absolutely positive?”

Shibayama gave Yuuji the most serious look he had ever given, and nodded twice.

“Alright. You two stay here with Y—”

Shibayama and Haru gasped simultaneously, making Terushima stop and give them a blank look.

“What?”

“We’re coming with!” Takeharu demanded passionately.

“We want to save Konoha!” Yuki added.

 

Yaku looked at Yuuji and shrugged helplessly. _Man_ , Yuuji thought. _This kid has Yaku-san wrapped around his finger_.

 

“As much as I understand, I don’t think it’s good for you guys to be—”

 

Before Terushima could even finish his concern statements, bullets came crashing through the kitchen window.

 

“Get down! Behind the island!” Morisuke yelled, yanking Shibayama towards him and dragging both of them to the ground.

“Haru!”

Takeharu ducked as the bullets flooded in, erupting everyone’s hearing with their loud popping and shattering. Terushima faintly heard his crew outside beginning to shoot back, but the original bullets had been so close to Haru that he didn’t even care about defending back—he slid over to Haru and held him close, covering the omega’s head with his head protectively. In return, Haru tried to cover Yuuji’s legs with his own, which both enraged, impressed, and touched Terushima’s heart. _Who does this kid think he is?_ The alpha wondered as bullets flew around them. _I’m a fucking punk from Johzenji—I get shot at, threatened, disrespected all the time…_

_He honestly wants to defend me like this? With his very life?_

_Who is he…_

 

The bullets came to a stop suddenly—there were a few distant ones outside, and more yelling from Bokuto could be heard. Terushima opened his eyes, not realizing he closed them, and checked for damage on Haru; he wasn’t bleeding, and unless Yuuji’s senses were completely off…his heart was beating with excitement. Not necessarily a good kind, but it was still baffling.

 

“Everyone okay?” Terushima called, noticing that all of Yaku’s kitchen was completely bullet-ridden with holes.

There was a sound of sniffling and gasping, and peeking around the corner of the island, he saw Yaku trying to soothe Shibayama’s almost-tears by whispering to him, gently rubbing his back as he laid overtop of the omega, protecting him from any more shots.

“We’re good,” Morisuke forced out. “Did they stop?”

“Sounds like it,” Terushima breathed, still holding Haru close to him. “We must be on the right track if Tanji sent his men after us like this. We gotta get going, before it’s too late.”

“I’m coming,” Haru said. “W-We’re coming too.”

“No.”

“Yes!”

“Haru, did you not see what just fucking happened? We were shot at. _You_ were shot a—”

“ _Konoha_ ,” Takeharu said pleadingly, grabbing onto Terushima’s collar so that he could feel his seriousness. “Konoha _needs us_. We have to save him, before it’s too late!”

 

Yuuji sighed and stressfully pulled at his hair, closing his eyes to try and make a rational decision; Yaku looked up from where Yuki was almost calming down, waiting for Terushima’s choice. He didn’t care what it was, as long as Shibayama was safe from both mental and physical harm, though he figured this incident had severed any possibility of a future with him. Morisuke understood. He wasn’t sad about that…at least not right now. Right now, they needed to save Konoha.

And they needed to do it fast.

 

 _Yachi,_ Yuuji thought, mind slowing _. What…what would Yachi want me to do? I can’t let Takeharu die…I won’t. I can’t let his friends die either, and I suppose they’re safest where I can see them, but still…_

_I can’t lose Haru, too._

 

“Alright,” Terushima sighed. “Alright! Come on!”

Just as they began to stand, someone came hurrying inside, making Yuuji whip his gun out and Yaku jerk Shibayama behind the table so he didn’t have to put the image of himself holding a gun inside the omega’s brain. As it turns out, it was just Bobata running to them.

“Akaashi called,” He huffed. “He said the crew’s in Nohebi now. Bokuto and So killed the shooters, and—”

“Is anyone hurt?”

“No.”

“Good—get in the car. We’ve got to go uptown in less than an hour.”

“Are we bringing them?” Bobata asked in concern, noticing Yuki’s fresh tears as he and Morisuke emerged from their hiding spot.

“Reluctantly.”

Haru pouted at Terushima, making him crack a grin.

“Let’s hurry. Konoha needs us. You good, Shibayama?”

The other omega nodded, and the pair headed towards the entrance, where Lev the cat was stressfully huddled up behind the trash can and umbrellas; Yaku bent down and gave him some quick reassurances, surprised when Yuki bent down and did the same, despite his condition.

“I-It’s okay, L-Lev,” The omega cooed, petting him softly. “It’ll a-ll b-be okay…promise.”

 

This promise prompted a confident response in Terushima and Bobata, who shared a look before standing a bit straighter and addressing their company.

 

“We’re going to save Konoha,” Yuuji said boldly. “We’re going to save each and every one of you, starting with him. That’s a promise. And despite my fun-loving personality, I—”

“Never break your promises.” Haru finished.

 

Almond eyes met brown, and something about seeing the complete trust in Takeharu’s eyes made Terushima feel invincible.

 

“I never break my promises.” He repeated. “Come on—Konoha’s waiting for us.”

 

~~~-~~~

 

While Konoha’s friends were all desperately searching for him, the poor omega was sitting on a crappy old bed in a building on 5th Street, Tokyo, pondering over his role in the world.

 

Despite having been the only one on the knotting freebee list for years, this was the first time he had ever been in the room created solely for that purpose.

 

 _It’s a lot different than I thought it would be_ , Konoha thought, shifting uncomfortably on the bed. _It’s not lavish, not very secretive, and has shitty lighting. I wonder…I wonder if Tanji’s ever used this room before, before our generation came. Did he used to have abortions in here or something? I wouldn’t put it past him…anyone who willingly kidnaps children to turn them into sex toys is capable of all evil._

Akinori glanced around the room again, still not used to the environment, even after being stuck inside for three-hours. Honestly, he saw this coming—that was part of his reasoning behind kissing Komi, because he figured he wouldn’t be allowed to see any of his old friends once he was bred by Suguru; that was also why he decided to skip and ditch his clients for the week. If he was going down, he was taking Tanji’s money with him. He spent more time with his friends, cuddled with Arata more, drank expensive coffee, wandered the pretty parts of Tokyo and fed ducks at the pond. It was a good way to end his life, so to speak. Once Suguru knotted him…Konoha would cease to exist.

Before, he had been okay with that. Right now, though?

 

….Konoha really _wasn’t_ okay with it.

 

The reality of the situation was setting in. For the past ten years, Akinori never feared being signed-up as a knotting freebee, because he never for a _second_ thought that any gangster in their right mind would choose a prostitute to bear their children. That was unsanitary and just plain unhealthy; Konoha could have had HIV for all they knew, inflicting the disease on their unborn child. He could also have reproductive issues, which wouldn’t end well if he became pregnant. There was also the fact that Akinori probably wouldn’t be “tight” down there, being a well-used prostitute and everything—of all the normal omegas in Tokyo, why would anyone choose Konoha?

Before…Konoha never feared this room. Of all the things he could be afraid of, this wasn’t one of them.

 _But now_ , Akinori thought slowly, clutching his hands together nervously. _Suguru’s intentions are perfectly clear. He’s going to knot me as many times as it takes for me to become pregnant, and then…then…_

_I’m going to have a child just like him._

 

 _That_ was enough reason to be trembling with fear, as Konoha was now.

 

There was a noise down the hall for the first time in hours—footsteps, to be exact, slow and deliberate, sending aches through Akinori’s chest as he sat up straighter and backed up against the headboard in anticipation. It was Suguru, no doubt, as he was the only one who had brought him here, the only one who probably _knew_ he was here, besides that bitch Tanji; the omega’s heart began to race as the footsteps came closer and closer, stopping right in front of the wooden door.

Suguru came to a halt, and gave a small laugh that sent a deep chill over Konoha’s body.

“Goodness, Konoha!” The snake cheered through the door as he turned the key. “I could hear your heartbeat from way down the hall!”

Konoha’s breath caught in his throat as the door opened, revealing the hitman himself, Suguru Daisho.

He was wearing a fancy, tight dark blue suit, which did his narrow body well, and would have made him handsome, had his entire demeanor not ruined the image. His eyes locked on the omega immediately, turning hungry with no hesitation. Apparently he had been waiting for this moment for a long time, because a small hard-on was noticeable, making a tent in his dress pants. Akinori swallowed nervously as he continued to look Suguru over, knowing that no matter how hard he tried, there was no way he would be able to fake his enjoyment, or imagine the snake as someone else, _anyone_ else, to avoid being hurt beyond help.

 

There was silence for a long moment.

 

Suguru used this moment to take in the appearance of Konoha, who had never looked so sexy, still in the black dress from yesterday night, the one he had fallen asleep in; his ashen hair was heavier from a light layer of grease, bangs flopping over his forehead seductively, and those damn curved lips of his, slightly pink, with just a _tiny_ tremble showing…and who could forget that body, those bare legs, and his upper torso that went slimmer as you went down, one sexy curve making up his waist and hips…

The snake licked his lips and trailed his eyes up to meet the omega’s.

“How are you, Konoha?” Daisho asked lowly, shedding his suit jacket.

Akinori swallowed again and broke eye-contact. He didn’t reply.

“Aww, don’t be shy…you know I’ve always had a thing for you, Konoha-kun.”

Suguru now had his shirt and shoes off, and crawled onto the bed, making the omega flinch in surprise. His panicked eyes met with the snake’s again, who gave him a grin in return as he settled in front of Konoha, hands on both sides of his folded knees. He was watching the omega’s face carefully, admiring his features and wondering what their pup would look like; he hoped it had Konoha’s hair, maybe the color of his eyes, but the shape of his own. What a pretty little pup he would be…

 

“You know, Konoha…I’ve been dreaming of your scent all day long.” Suguru growled, closing his eyes and leaning closer to Akinori, who was shivering now. “I finally won’t have to just imagine how you taste…”

 

His snake-like tongue slivered out and licked a stripe over Konoha’s scent glands, a little ways under his jaw; the alpha released a satisfied, intoxicated hum, immediately grabbing onto the omega’s shoulders so that he could pull him closer, the scent and taste drowning his growing arousal. Within a split second of his second lick, deeper and more aggressive this time, a different scent exploded inside the room, making Konoha almost faint from its power.

When the bloody, iron-filled, absolutely _bitter_ scent flooded his very mind, Akinori remembered that today was the start of Suguru’s rut.

On command, Daisho gave a deep groan into his neck, and buried the rest of his face into the bare skin, which was burning with something other than arousal by now. It felt like poison was being injected into his flesh. Konoha tried to inch away, as the experience was just too unbearable, but Suguru’s grip was unrelenting—there was no way of escape. Not anymore. Back in the closet, someone might have found them eventually, but now? …If Suguru’s personality and instincts were unstoppable _before_ his rut…how could anyone in the entire universe stop him _during_ his rut, when he was laying with the omega he had been lusting after for how many years now?

 

“Fuck.”

 

Suguru sat back with a gasp, eyes still closed, allowing Konoha a moment to gather himself. He was expecting to be tied up about now, or taped to the bed, or forced to wear a sexy outfit, but deep down, he had a sick feeling that Daisho wasn’t going to play with him for that long. He had waited long enough. He had been waiting ever since arriving in Tokyo.

Now that Konoha was his, _forever_ …he was going to take him as many times as it took for the omega to become full of his pups.

And with his rut varying between three to _five_ days, he planned on taking full advantage of his newest shiny toy.

 

“You’re going to look so full with my pups,” Suguru growled possessively into the omega’s ear, sneaking his hands down, running them down and across Konoha’s body. “I’m never letting you stay thin…I want you to have me inside you at all times, whether it’s my cock or my pups. I bet you like that idea, huh?”

Akinori shut his eyes tightly, willing himself not to cry as he regretted not spending the past week preparing for this moment. There was no stopping Suguru now…

“Mmmm…I bet you’ll become addicted after this. I bet you won’t stop _begging_ for me to breed you, even when you’re nine months pregnant, about to pop three alpha pups for me…you’ll love it, won’t you baby? Being stuffed so full with my cum and my pups that you get on your knees and _beg_ me to fill you up again and again and again, even outside of your heat?”

Suguru practically ripped Konoha’s jacket off, making him release a shaky breath.

“Ahh…how could I forget about these?” The snake questioned, placing a hand on one of Akinori’s small, underdeveloped breasts, squeezing tightly. “Can you imagine how big they’ll get once your body starts making milk? They’ll almost be like a girl’s,” He laughed cruelly. “You’ll probably like that too, won’t you? Having me suck your tits dry so they aren’t so heavy…you’re pretty kinky, right Konoha? I’m sure you understand what I mean—well, if you don’t…”

 

Suguru slid a hand under Akinori’s dress, running his palm over the omega’s flat stomach.

 

“You will soon enough, my dear.”

 

At this point, Konoha knew he wasn’t going to survive Suguru’s rut unless he thought of a solution quickly. The only distraction that came to his mind was Komi.

 

Konoha began to imagine that it was _Komi_ doing this to him. He imagined that he was with Komi for their first time together, during Haruki’s rut, the first one he had since he and Akinori met; he would talk sweetly, murmuring and whispering to the omega about how lovely he was, about how he was glad to be here with him, about he was happy to have met someone like him…Konoha lost himself to these daydreams as Suguru began kissing him on the lips, infecting him with his poisonous venom.

_“Are you sure about this?” Komi forced out as the omega settled over his hips. “You…you have a pretty high chance of getting pregnant…and also…I’ve never been with anyone during my rut before, so I don’t know…how you’ll act, or how I’ll act…”_

_Konoha smiled down at the alpha and gave a grind of his hips, eliciting a sharp moan from Haruki, who tried very hard to keep his eyes open, eager for the other’s response to his question._

_“I’m sure,” Akinori whispered. “You’re a very considerate lover, aren’t you Komi?”_

_Konoha leaned down, sprawling himself over the smaller man’s body as he kissed him with trust and passion, feeling more and more waves of heat pool off the alpha. When he leaned back up and began rocking his hips again, Haruki spoke while keeping his eyes open and admiring, focused entirely on Akinori and nothing else, no one else._

_“I don’t want to be like the others.” He said._

_The ashen haired Rose stopped his movements, looking down at Komi seriously._

_“I don’t want to be like all the others you had to be with,” He huffed. “If I start to act possessive, which—which will probably happen once things heat-up…I just don’t want it to be like how it used to be for you. When people would just use you, without regarding your feelings, your needs…I don’t want to be like them. I’ll let you take the reins, but what if I…forget that? Maybe we should wait until…until I know…”_

_Konoha stared at the alpha below him. His fluffy hair was all matted and tangled from his omega’s constant grabbing and tugging, making him look incredibly sexy, a description that was added to by the redness of his little lips, and the relaxed features of his face. Komi had proved to be nothing like any of the clients Konoha had in his past life, which seemed like so long ago…Komi was funny, totally geeky when it came to affection, easily embarrassed by the mention of something erotic, and terribly unselfish as a boyfriend._

_“Even if you do become aggressive with your sexual endeavors, Haruki,” Konoha began quietly, leaning down again. “It would never be the same as before, because it’s YOU who’s taking me this time. You’re not anything like those men. And I know that. I know that, Komi…you love me, don’t you?”_

_“Of course,” Haruki grinned, making Akinori roll his eyes. “I’ll love you for all of eternity.”_

_“Well then…”_

_Konoha gave him a passionate kiss, running his tongue across those kissable lips while grinding down on him again, only leaning back in order to whisper in his ear._

_“Make me yours, Haruki Komi.”_

A sharp bite to his neck jerked Akinori back to reality, where Suguru had latched onto his skin with his snake-like fangs, his tongue slipping out and licking where his teeth weren’t connected. The omega whimpered out-loud, making the alpha smirk with pride against his skin, happy to have gotten a response from Konoha. There was no denying or delaying his rut anymore—Akinori could _feel_ the hormones in the air, suffocating anyone in the room with how much lust was trapped inside those feelings. It was becoming harder and harder to breathe, and Suguru was becoming more and more aggressive in his touches and bites. The omega hadn’t even thought about how _painful_ it would be to have those fangs digging into his throat as the hitman came inside him for the first time…on second thought, maybe it was a good thing he hadn’t thought of that before. The idea produced another whimper from his throat, which only make the alpha even _more_ horny as he switched to the other side to devour more of Akinori’s scent glands.

 

 _Please_ , Konoha begged silently, gasping in terror as Daisho began grinding his groin over his own. _Someone please help me._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh Konoha...tbh, that last scene was one of my favorites to write. Also Konoha, sorry for making you suffer on youe birthday...


	15. Bel Air

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I've been, waiting to greet you...

In Nohebi, seemingly worlds away from Tokyo, Fukurodani and Karasuno’s crew were just finishing-up with their latest assignment. It was a hard battle fought, with lots of bloodshed and injuries, taking much longer than anyone anticipated, even when Nohebi was outnumbered, but due to a sudden spark of violence from Sarukui, the selective few assassins and murders close to Suguru Daisho were eliminated; the crew didn’t call Akaashi with the news until they had dumped the bodies in random locations around the city, cleaned-up their mess, and patched Tanaka up, since he had a pretty nasty bullet go right through his thigh.

“Akaashi Keiji speaking.”

“It’s done.” Sarukui said simply.

Akaashi sprang out of his chair and grabbed his suit jacket, making sure that his handgun was tucked into his waistband before hanging up and snatching his car keys. He dialed the number for Terushima’s car phone, and it only rang once.

“Akaashi?”

“The job is finished in Nohebi. I’m heading over to make an offer to Tanji right now.” Keiji said briefly, getting into his car as the rest of Karasuno waited outside for him, eager for an order. “Finish Suguru.”

There was a short pause on the other end that had Akaashi worried for a moment.

“Trust me, Akaashi-kun.” Yuuji said passionately. “I’ll do _much_ more than that.”

 

Terushima and the others were just coming up on 5th Avenue, Bobata slamming on the breaks and bringing them to a screeching halt, one of the tires jumping the sidewalk. Yuuji bolted around to face the two omegas sitting in the backseat.

“ _Stay here_ ,” He demanded, using his dominant alpha side to make sure they knew how serious he was. “Don’t take a step out of this car until we tell you to. Understand?”

Both boys nodded shortly, grasping each other’s hands like their lives depended on it. Despite the seriousness of the situation, Yuuji couldn’t help but admire Haru’s focus; the sight drove him to march upstairs and kick Suguru’s ass all the way to Mars.

“Komi’s coming,” Bobata alerted, rolling his window down as the alpha approached from behind. “What’s the game plan?”

“I’m sticking Ennoshita and Yamaguchi in here, too.” He said, ushering the other two omegas inside the Ferrari, where they joined hands with their fellow Roses. “If Suguru is in his rut as rumors say, then his senses might be clouded over enough for us to sneak inside the building. If not…I don’t know what’ll happen. He might take Konoha as hostage as soon as he hears us coming, and then we’ll _really_ be in trouble.”

“We don’t want that…” Terushima mumbled thoughtfully. “There’s no perfect way to plan this—he’s going to hear us either way, and as soon as we break through that door, he’s going to use Konoha against us…I mean, if we were omegas, this might be a different story.”

“Now’s not the time to be joking about sex changes, Terushima.” Bobata replied.

“Not what I was referring to, but ok—”

“I’ll do it.”

 

It took everyone a long second to turn their heads and stare at Takeharu, who was staring at them with determination.

 

“Um…what?” Kazuma questioned.

“Let me go up there,” Haru explained, eyes shining. “I’m an omega—I might be able to do something against Suguru.”

Terushima began laughing from shock, though his eyes were dead serious. Chikara and Yamaguchi shared a wide-eyed look, while Arata was the only one considering Haru’s offer.

“I was kidding, Haru…just because Suguru’s horny doesn’t mean—”

“You guys haven’t known Suguru for very long,” Futamata retaliated, shutting Yuuji up. “We’ve known him for years. We know his habits, his likes, his dislikes, his preferences…and we know that he’s a sucker for a good smelling omega. My scent has attracted several stalkers over the years, so I’m fairly confident of how it will affect Suguru if he’s in his rut. Let me go up there and cause a distraction…then you can run in and…do whatever it is you’re going to do to him.”

 

Everyone in the car stared at the omega, unable to process what he was proposing.

 

“Oh…and then while you guys are chasing him, I can comfort Konoha.” Haru said, swallowing tightly. “God knows how much pain he’s already endured…”

“You scare me sometimes, you know that, Haru?” Ennoshita commented.

“He’s talking like a damn Johzenji member,” Terushima mumbled, staring at Haru in thought. “…While he’s right about Suguru…I don’t think we should take the risk.”

“What?!” Haru laughed, giving Yuuji a wild look. “Terushima Yuuji, not willing to take a risk? What world am I in?”

“One where you could easily be taken by Suguru if we don’t react quick enough,” The alpha snapped back. “Konoha’s already in enough danger, s—”

“We’re wasting time,” Haru said, cutting him off once more and reaching for the door handle. “Konoha needs us.”

 

Yuuji reacted quickly and snatched onto the omega’s wrist, preventing him from opening the car door. Haru’s brown eyes looked over at Terushima’s golden ones, seeing the frustration burning amongst them, creating a fiery blaze of sun. That same alpha anger was there, the same as the one from the night Yuuji found out what happened to Yachi, but this time, there was more of a protective glare to it; obviously Haru knew Terushima didn’t want to risk him…and he quickly figured out that the only way to dissolve this hesitation as quickly as possible was to use that to his advantage.

 

“Terushima,” Takeharu begged quietly, voice shaking as tears moistened his deep brown eyes. “Please let me help…I…I couldn’t help Yachi-kun, but Konoha…he still has a chance. Why won’t you let m-me help him, Yuuji?”

The cropped-haired alpha stared at Haru with wide-eyes, their playful, light color returning as his grip loosened on the omega’s wrist; Haru took this opportunity to lay his soft palm against Yuuji’s, making the others lips tighten in response. They stared at each other for a tense moment as the alpha thought deeply, running through all of the options in his head.

_Konoha needs us right NOW. We don’t have a plan, at least not one that results in him getting out of this alive…Haru’s plan is okay, but I don’t think he understands the level of danger he’s putting himself at…then again…he probably DOES understand, because he’s been through stuff similar to this before…but…I can’t just let…I can’t…_

_But…it’s now or never_ , Terushima decided, releasing a deep, steadying breath. _Today is the day of reckoning._

_Today is the day that Tanji Washijo pays for Yachi Terushima, and Futamata Takeharu._

The alpha swallowed and nodded.

 

“… _Whipped_.” Bobata whispered.

 

Yuuji socked him in the shoulder.

 

“Haru,” Terushima said lowly, his tone erasing all comical atmosphere. He motioned the omega forward with his finger, and Haru readily obeyed; he leaned forward to talk to Yuuji behind the headrest, obvious to the nervous group behind them, watching intently. Yuuji spoke intently, in a tight whisper, right against his ear, right against his bloodstream, just so he knew just how serious he was.

“ _You_ are coming out of this _alive_.” Terushima stressed. “You…Konoha…you’re all going to be alive. Do you understand, Haru?” He asked softly.

That was only the second time Haru had ever heard Yuuji’s voice tremble.

“Yes,” The omega said surely. “I understand.”

“Good. I’m glad you see the value in your life.”

 

Before Haru could blush, Terushima backed up into his own seat, and unlocked the doors of the Ferrari.

 

“Be careful.”

 

~~~-~~~

 

When Takeharu quietly entered the vacant hotel, there were several scents that immediately made him lose all confidence in his future actions.

Firstly, the smell of Suguru. His musty, bloody scent was enough, but him aroused? That was almost too much to handle. The humidity was strong, even from the first floor; Haru almost let the bile rise in his throat when he realized that Suguru’s aroused scent was not all that he could detect—there was also a hint of… _bodily fluids_. Naturally, the amount was going to be heavy, considering how much slick omegas produce during intercourse, but this wasn’t a lot of omega scent; it was alpha.

Haru knew that couldn’t mean anything short of horrifying, and forced himself to run the staircase as quickly and as quietly as possible.

 

_I’m coming Konoha. I’m coming._

 

Finding what floor the pair was on wasn’t difficult. The scents led Haru right to their very door, where he paused in fear, trying to go over the short, straight-forward plan he had created; but the scents surrounding him were just _too damn overwhelming_. There was fear, there was _lust_ , there was hesitance, there was pride—it was too much. Way too much. Anyone who walked under their window would have understood what kind of alpha was inside, maybe even what kind of omega was inside that torture room…and it was loud. _Fuck_ was it loud.

The only noises Haru could hear at the moment were recovering pants, but the atmosphere alone was ear-bleeding, like dramatic music was playing in the background. His heart was thumping loudly, and right before he lost all of his nerve, he heard a gasp from inside the room.

 

It was Konoha’s.

 

Like hearing the heart monitor himself, Haru realized that no noise followed the heaving gasp; it was as if Konoha had taken his last breath, sick of all the suffering for once and for all. His friend covered his mouth in horror, and before he realized what he was doing, his hand went up to thump against the door repeatedly.

His seductive scent began oozing out in waves, directed right at Suguru.

There was a moment of hovering silence, filled only by pants, and then, Haru heard a breathy whisper.

 

“Ahhh…did you invite a friend, Konoha-kun?”

Takeharu swallowed, focusing on sending his scent through the door.

“The door’s open, Haru.” Suguru cooed in satisfaction.

With his hand shaking, but his mind fiercely demanding Konoha to be okay, Futamata turned the knob and pushed the door open.

The sight was not what he wanted to see.

A dark haired snake was staring back at him, lips curling back, not in a smile, but to lick his red lips in lust.

“ _Haru_ ,” He cooed, almost in a moan. “You smell _delicious_ …why don’t you come take a seat right on my lap?”

 

As the windows crashed around the bed, Terushima and Bokuto breaking them in and immediately holding guns in Suguru’s direction, Haru stared. Konoha was there, on the mattress…but his eyes were closed. A very naked Suguru, covered in sweat and slick, was spooning his limp body above the covers, a surprised, but still intoxicated glaze over his lust-filled snake eyes, who were staring directly at Haru, seemingly not noticing or caring that Bokuto and Yuuji had handguns held within inches of both sides of his body. Takeharu wasn’t even aware if his scent was still lingering…he just couldn’t take his eyes off Konoha, no matter how hard he tried. Obviously his muscles were spent, and dead purple roses were splattered over his hips, neck, throat, and shoulders; Takeharu wanted to see his face, though he knew he wouldn’t be able to handle it, just to make sure that his nose wasn’t bleeding, because if his nose was bleeding, they were in big trouble.

Past experiences of Akinori Konoha taught him that.

 

“Greetings, Mr. Playboy.” Suguru said, never taking his gaze off Haru.

 

Akinori was…pale. So pale. His narrow, but toned and sultry body was so pale and sickly looking Haru wanted to look away. He thought he had already seen Konoha at his lowest, and for him to be wrong was _crushing_ , at the worst possible moment.

“Shut the fuck up,” Yuuji spat with venom. “Any last words?”

Suguru gave a dramatic sigh and finally turned his eyes to look at Terushima, his eyes mocking.

“You’re so dramatic, Yuuji-kun…I’ve always liked that about you.”

Before anyone could interrupt _his_ dramatic monologue, Daisho continued.

“I suppose I could have seen this coming…ha. Speaking of coming, wanna know how many loads of Suguru that Konoha has inside him right now?”

Terushima bashed the gun across the snake’s slitted nostrils, getting a laugh full of blood and coughing.

“I said shut the fuck up!”

The hitman was smug, however, and knew that Terushima wouldn’t kill him so easily; this never bothered Suguru, as this was what he did as an assassin, and he had known his cause of death long before anyone ever began hating him, before he began making enemies. He pressed his luck and leaned back over Konoha’s lifeless body, taking the blood from his nose and wiping it lovingly over Konoha’s pale, battered shoulder. Haru hadn’t moved an inch, but this sinful act caused his hands to turn into tight fists.

 

“Keep your hands off him.”

 

_Wait…did **I** just say that? Was that **me**?_

 

Suguru glanced back over to him, looking like the hitman he truly was. His real colors were showing, dark shades of burnt violet and blood red seeming to pour from his eyes and teeth; all the evil in the world comes from the existence of the first snake—

If Satan was the first snake, Suguru was the second.

“I’ll _always_ be remembered in Japan,” Daisho hissed, more aggressively now. “If not from my association to Tanji, to the rest of the _pathetic_ yakuzas in Japan, then through my children, generously birthed by Tokyo’s tightest whore, Akinori Konoha, leader of the Delicate Ros—”

Terushima went to grab Suguru by the hair, but the hitman reacted quickly, and swung his legs out to kick at Yuuji, swiping him only halfway to the wall, since the other alpha predicted this move. Bokuto took the opportunity to shoot, sending an eruption through the room as blood poured from Daisho’s left bicep, scales practically falling off from the sheer force at which the bullet was produced by Fukurodani’s co-leader.

“Grab him!” Komi yelled, hurrying over to yank Konoha away.

Spit and blood flew as Bokuto, Bobata and the rest of the crew, who had snuck in through the ajar door, subdued Suguru, who kept thrashing and trying to bite his way out of the hold. In his lust-hazed mind, the scent of Konoha’s (reluctant) slick caused him to forget all about weaponry and protection—more than just gun protection. Although, judging on how eager he was to impregnate Konoha, he probably wasn’t thinking about birth control.

Bobata had the snake’s tail pinned behind him, shoving his throat towards the ceiling until Terushima could look down at him with ease. The amount of hate he had for this man was just…

 

Yuuji laid a splitting punch on Suguru’s high cheekbone, but didn’t do more, because he knew Haru was still there.

 

All of this action, and Suguru was still aroused.

 

“You’re a sick bastard,” Terushima hissed, gripping Daisho’s sex hair harshly in hopes of ripping some out of the roots. “A sick fucking bastard, you know that?!”

“That’s…how I make a living, baby.” Suguru laughed breathily.

 

Yuuji made a silent promise to himself: that would be the last laugh of Tokyo’s favorite puppet.

 

“Get that snake the fuck out of here,” Terushima growled into Bokuto’s ear as Bobata jerked Suguru’s limp body around. “We’re gunna make this the worst rut he’s ever fuckin’ had—and make sure he’s _alive_ by the time we’re through—five months from now…he’s going to wish he hadn’t bitten so many heels while slithering on the ground of Tokyo.”

The amount of alpha rage in that room should have made Takeharu pass out—but the sight of Konoha was somehow keeping him sane, even though he made no movements to go to his friend. Komi broke from the group hog-tying Suguru and sprinted over to the injured omega, trying to be as gentle and as quick as possible; sitting on the edge of the bed, where Akinori’s arm was hanging off, Komi checked for not _serious_ injuries, but Konoha’s face.

There was no blood coming out of his nose; in fact, the only blood on Akinori was from several bite marks on the right side of his neck, where Daisho hadn’t left a mate mark, but had left teasing nibbles as to insult the omega’s status of being a prostitute. Aside from this nearly-positive fact, however…

 

Things didn’t look very good.

 

“We need a hospital,” Haruki whispered fearfully, immediately taking Konoha into his arms. “No exceptions.”

Terushima meant to respond, but was trying to mentally calculate what method of escape Suguru would use; Takeharu didn’t begin breathing again until Komi accidently brushed Konoha’s hair against the other omega.

“Konoha,” Haru whispered with a broken voice, covering his mouth in shock. “Please take care of him, Komi-san…”

Haruki stared at him for a long second before giving a slow nod.

“You’ve been taking care of him up until now,” Komi said in comfort. “Let us take over from here. You just did your last duty to the Delicate Roses…Fukurodani and Johzenji are in your debt.”

Pride, a feeling Haru had never felt before, hurriedly rose in his chest, making him suck-in a sharp gasp as Komi carried Akinori out of the building; _he’s right_ , a voice said to Takeharu. _You saved Konoha today. You laid your life on the line like he would for you. Mika would be proud of your actions, especially if she’s seen what Suguru has become…she would be proud of you._

_As would Yachi._

 

“Haru?”

 

The omega hadn’t realized that he was still standing by the doorway, the only ones left in the disgustingly musty room being he and Terushima. Yuuji was hovering by the bed, adrenaline still rushing through his veins, along with burning hatred, but he crossed the room quickly and ushered Haru out in a hushed voice.

“Let’s get out of this room,” He said, putting one hand on Futamata’s back and one on his arm. “It fucking reeks.”

 

The pair hurried out together, but that was the last place where Haru’s mind was.

 

Sug _uru…Suguru was Tanji’s best and only weapon_ , the dark-haired boy thought slowly, letting Terushima lead him down the stairs. _And now that we…whatever we did…he can’t work for Tanji anymore. I mean…he’s going to die, right? I don’t think yakuzas keep people alive…and as much as I would have just liked Daisho to have made the right decision years ago, with Mika…I guess this is how things have to be._

 _So_ , a different voice prompted. _What does this mean, Takeharu?_

_It…it means that…_

 

Terushima sensed a change in Haru’s body.

 

_The petals have all fallen off. The Delicate Roses of Tanji Washijo are no more._

 

As the two emerged from the building, Takeharu stopped and abruptly turned to Terushima, his eyes wide and glossy, though shining like the sun that had peeked out from the clouds for the first time that day. Yuuji’s eyebrows rose in surprise as the omega stared at him, not saying a word; the alpha didn’t want to ask what was wrong, because that was a stupid ass question with too many answers. Konoha still wasn’t out of the woods—Tanji, as of this moment, was still alive—Haru himself had been baited by the sickest hitman in all of Tokyo…

There were many reasons why Haru wasn’t able to speak. Terushima hoped that this was the last time he would ever see the omega like this.

 

A whisper escaped Haru’s lips.

 

“What was that?” Yuuji asked quietly, leaning forward while maintaining eye contact.

Takeharu’s eyes became even more glossy, and his hands loosened from their tight fists.

“…We’re _free_.”

 

Konoha’s unconscious body felt this sudden turn of the universe, and inside Yuuji’s Ferrari, while being held against the chest of Ennoshita, his legs and feet warmed by Arata and Yamaguchi, his hand held by Shibayama…he awoke.

“Konoha?” Tsucchi asked hopefully. “Are you awake?”

Akinori didn’t answer, and still kept his eyes closed; everything ached. He had only been conscious for five seconds and he knew that much…but still…

 

He couldn’t deny that this final “death” of his had a much better rebirth than ever before.

 

Takeharu slowly drew his arms up, and Terushima sighed as he was embraced with everlasting relief; Yuuji tucked his nose into Haru’s neck, though he was being comforted more by Futamata—his scent was different, somehow. It was different from how it had been the first few times Yuuji smelled it, and different from how Suguru smelled it. There was still chocolate, rose petals, and fresh pollen, but…Haru just smelled…

 _Different_.

 

“Thank you,” Takeharu whispered in a choked voice. “Thank you, Terushima.”

 

“Shit, Haru.” Terushima mumbled, shaking his head in the crook of the omega’s neck. “… _I’m_ the one who should be thanking _you_.”

 

Miles across town, Akaashi Keiji was entering Tanji Washijo’s main office.

 

He had called wanting an explanation and “sit down” of the current situation, in which Shiratorizawa was accusing the groups Fukurodani, Nekoma, and Karasuno of conspiring or planning to conspire against them. Akaashi had arrived early, and was searched at the door by Ushijima—his search apparently turned-up empty, as he took no weapons from Fukurodani’s leader.

Keiji entered, and stood in front of Tanji’s desk, where the alpha was stiffly pacing back and forth. His caved eyes darted to Akaashi sternly, but he otherwise didn’t respond for a solid minute.

When he felt his life was safe, Keiji spoke.

 

“I apologize for the fact that we had to call this meeting, Tanji-sama.” Akaashi said respectfully. “I was aware that there were some growing tensions, but I wasn’t aware that they had grown to being such large problems.”

“And I’m sure you forgot that Karasuno and Shiratorizawa have never gotten along, Mr. Akaashi?” Tanji almost spat. He paced quicker, alpha aura growing more and more, at its highest for the first time in years. Nothing was going to plan. everything should have turned out fine, with the omegas bringing in dollar after dollar, client after clients, but now, what did he have as a result? Three other yakuzas out to get him for some unknown reason. While he hoped to settle this quietly, he couldn’t help but enjoy the attention this got Shiratorizawa.

“State your proposition.” Washijo said.

 

 _Well_ , Akaashi thought. _This was easier than I expected_.

 

“Let me buy the Delicate Roses.”

 

The room froze.

 

Washijo stared incomprehensibly at Akaashi, who stood his ground as Tendo and Ushijima practically gaped at him; well, Tendo was openly gaping, Ushijima’s eyebrows just twitched once, then returned to normal. After staring at Keiji for what seemed like _10_ minutes, Washijo finally showed some sort of reaction—his lips opened an inch, and the closest sound to a _laugh_ came out of his mouth, a noise from deep within his chest.

“Sell,” Tanji breathed, not sure whether to be amused or annoyed. “This is about money, now? I always assumed Fukurodani focused their points on power alone.”

“Power and influence help,” Akaashi replied smoothly. He never expected Washijo to accept his offer. “But we value loyalty most, here in Japan. It’s one of our oldest mottos, our most valued virtue; money is not even in the top three.”

“Don’t preach to me about loyalty, boy.” Tanji grumbled, his sharp eyes turning to meet Keiji’s calm ones. “I used to roam Tokyo since before you were born.”

“Assuming your current position in Tokyo, it’s obvious that you never stuck to your original morals.”

 

Tanji wasn’t sure whether to shoot Akaashi or start war on Fukurodani—as it turns out, he didn’t get to make a choice. Unknown to him, his greatest weapon had just been captured, and his bodyguards had betrayed him.

With the servants, goes the king.

 

“Tanji-san—wealth is a powerful weapon, when used correctly. It could aid an empire, or destroy a world. Money doesn’t have enough control over _itself_ , however, which means it is incapable of controlling others.”

Akaashi straightened his posture.

“It takes _loyalty_ , Tanji-san, to run Tokyo.”

 

Keiji took out his black Colt M19 handgun, held it forward, and sent one bullet right through Tanji Washijo’s forehead.

 

He fell backwards and landed behind his desk, dead.

 

Akaashi tucked the gun neatly into his waistband, then went around the desk and lifted-up the picture hiding Tanji’s wall safe; he typed in the number Semi had given him, took all of Shiratorizawa’s savings out, slipped them into his jacket pockets, then turned around.

Tendo and Ushijima were watching with unreadable faces, though the flame-haired boy seemed to be amused underneath his mask.

 

“Good day, gentlemen.” Akaashi nodded politely. “I’ll be in touch.”

 

~~~-~~~

 

Two-hours later, while Suguru was only suffering through the _beginning_ of his punishment, much like a criminal being mummified alive, Terushima and the others were huddled around Konoha’s hospital bed, where he was awake and well, despite his exhaustion, herpes diagnosis, and several other illnesses that suddenly made him extremely fatigued; Konoha was relatively cheerful. He didn’t even know what had happened to Suguru, exactly, and didn’t give any details as to what happened with the alpha, since the evidence was painfully clear enough, but still—this reality already seemed much better than the one they left behind.

“You’re so cool, Konoha!” Shibayama exclaimed, poking the dirty blonde’s arm. “You have an IV in your arm, and you’re not even crying! I’d be crying. I’d probably be unconscious, actually.”

“While I’m sure that’s true, Yuki-chan,” Konoha sighed with a loose smile. “I assure you, I’m not in as little pain as I look. I’m just too cool to show it.”

“Pf,” Haru giggled from where he was currently draped over Akinori’s legs. “Cool—not an adjective I would describe you as.”

The omegas laughed amongst themselves as the alphas watched with smiles. Their half-hour of jokes and beautiful relief was interrupted by the appearance of a nurse who came to speak with Konoha. Though his friends were reluctant, they backed away from the bed and allowed her to come through; she had papers in her hands containing test results. The room suddenly became very uneasy after the reminder of the past.

Just when you think you left everything behind…

 

“How are you feeling, Akinori-kun?” She smiled, taking a seat on his bedside.

“Better than I thought I would be feeling,” Konoha shrugged. His gaze was locked onto her blue eyes, noticing the seriousness and concern. “What’d you find out for me? Am I dying? HIV maybe?”

“You’re not dying, nor do you have HIV.” The nurse chuckled stiffly. “But um…” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “DO you want to discuss this in private?”

The rest of the room occupants shifted awkwardly, pretending in vain like they weren’t listening.

“It’s fine,” Konoha sighed, leaning back against his pillow. “I mean, they’ve all seen me naked by this point, so this is only a minor form of embarrassment for me.”

 

The nurse looked horrified at this statement, but Terushima and Bobata smirked and shook their heads.

 

“O—Okay,” The woman nodded. “Like I said…your HIV tests came back negative, but you did test positive for herpes. Your vitals are looking normal, though you’re a bit dehydrated and over-exhausted.”

“Yeah. Anything new? Are my parts all functioning?”

She froze at Konoha’s last question, looking up at him with too much hidden emotion in her eyes. Her grip on the papers faltered, and her mouth hovered open for a few moments before she spoke again.

“Yes,” The nurse nodded. “They’re all functioning…maybe…maybe even functioning _too_ well.”

“Too well?” Shibayama repeated quietly, looking over at Yaku.

Morisuke only put an arm around him and squeezed, because he had a feeling he knew what was coming.

 

“There’s a chance you might be pregnant.”

 

Haru almost gagged at the idea; Terushima’s attention was caught once more, and his heart turned stone cold; Konoha himself just stared into space, the reminder of his status coming back to haunt him. Honestly, he had been thinking about the possibility of becoming pregnant ever since Suguru first came inside him, the horrifying conclusion always hovering in the back of his mind like a germ. _Pregnant?_ Akinori thought slowly. _Give birth to a pup? More than ONE pup? That doesn’t sound like me…_

“Of course, it’s too early to tell!” The nurse hurried to assure him. “But the other nurses found a _hint_ of evidence that might point to that path, but we’ll keep checking until we’re sure. I wouldn’t worry about it too much right now. You rest up, and I’ll go get you some food.”

The woman hurried out of the room as fast as possible, leaving Konoha to his thoughts. The rest of the group stood by, stuck in their own sudden strike of depression, the room seeming to grow louder and louder with each passing second, a mixture of anger and grief.

“You—You—You _can’t_ be pregnant!” Shibayama exclaimed, making everyone jump. Yaku tried to console him, but Yuki was too far gone. “You _can’t_ be…n-not with… with S- _Suguru_ …”

“Abortion,” Ennoshita offered, eyes wide. “You could…get an abortion.”

“That’s terrible!” Yamaguchi cried.

“Would you rather he gave birth to _another Suguru_?” His mate stressed.

“No!”

“Well there you go!”

“Stop,” Takeharu ordered quietly. “Konoha can do whatever he wants…it’s _his_ baby.”

“No it’s not.”

 

It took a moment for everyone to look back to the omega lying on the hospital bed.

 

“…It’s not mine,” He repeated slowly, in a trance-like state. “It never was intended to be mine…”

 

 _Suguru never intended for the child to be partly mine, even if I did give birth to_ it, Konoha thought. _That pup was going to be his. There’s no doubt about that. He was going to raise it however he wanted, with aggression and sternness, more violence than anything…if this child does exist, there’s no way he can be considered mine. That being said, if this baby inside me belongs to Suguru Daisho, shares the same blood and instincts…_

_His fate will be the same._

_Here’s how the pup’s life would go: he is born to a prostitute named Konoha, who was forcibly impregnated by the father. That’s already setting up him for failure by being unwanted and forced—anything forced cannot succeed. The pup would then be raised in poverty, which creates an ego, a desire to prove himself, which causes him to start joining groups and attempting to make a name for himself. He would realize his talents in violence and begin investigating his father; once he discovers his fate, he would seek revenge. One choice to kill someone will be unhesitant, making him progress even faster than Suguru._

_The rest of his life is already laid-out at that point._

_…If I abort this child…I’ll be saving him from existing as a spawn of Suguru, a life of poverty and violence, a poisonous thought process that gets him into serious trouble. He won’t have to know the cruelty of the world, what it’s like to not have anything, what it’s like to watch your parent struggle for food and survival. If I show mercy and have the child…we all know the 50% chance of him being like his father will be accepted. That’s how fate always works—_

_Expect the unexpected._

 

“We’re with you no matter what you choose, Konoha-kun.” Arata said solidly, breaking the omega’s train of thought. “It’ll all be okay.”

 

Akinori glanced up; he looked at Tsucchi first, who was trying to give him a brave smile, though he looked very pained. _Arata wouldn’t handle that well_ , Konoha thought to himself, staring at the boy’s young features. _He’s basically a child himself…and Shibayama—Shibayama would never ever be able to take it. He would just know that each time he looked at that baby, he was seeing Suguru. He would avoid me at all costs, probably…and Ennoshita would be mad at me for all of eternity, for allowing that child to suffer through life; Yamaguchi would side with me no matter what I chose, and would probably split with Chikara as a result. The alphas…the alphas would be better at hiding their true feelings over the subject. Terushima would probably be angry if I didn’t abort the child, but would hide behind his jokes and sly grin; Bobata would be less civil, and would probably only talk to me with stiffness. Yaku is pleasant enough…he would be okay with whatever…_

_What would Haru do?_

_He looks passive right now, but what if he changes his mind? What if I tell him about all the times Suguru harassed and assaulted me? Surely he would be upset. And if he was upset over my choice to keep the baby…he wouldn’t say so. He would go through his life in pain. He wouldn’t want to hurt my feelings, because he knows how fragile I can be; he would be the same as always, but it wouldn’t be the same, because he would always have this impending doom feeling around me, knowing that what he said didn’t help my decision. If I aborted the child, he would be the same: always feeling guilty, always wondering if he helped me make the right choice…_

_I refuse to let Haru live like that._

 

The last face he looked at was Komi’s.

Konoha suddenly remembered what he was imagining during the first few minutes with Suguru, and longed for that wonderfully blissful scene to be reality; it was possible, now that Daisho was gone…but would Komi want him? Would he want him, knowing that he might possibly be pregnant with the hitman’s child? It didn’t seem likely. But…then again…Haruki had kissed him back that night. He hadn’t pushed Konoha away.

Why would he keep pursuing him if he wanted nothing to do with the omega?

 

Akinori swallowed once; he licked his lips a second later, and spoke.

 

“Based on what has happened since the day I met Suguru…if I _am_ pregnant…” Konoha released a deep sigh. “I don’t want the child to live.”

 

“You know you don’t have to decide right now,” Terushima shrugged. “You might not even be pregnant.”

“I am,” Akinori laughed dryly. “That was Suguru’s intentions. Have you ever known him to not do something he put his mind to?”

Yuuji didn’t answer.

“Whatever you want, Konoha.” Haru said. “It’s your life…we’ll stick with you no matter what happens. For now, let’s just be happy that you’re alive! Yay Konoha!”

“WE TOTALLY FORGOT YOUR BIRTHDAY!” Shibayama yelled in panic. “We’re _so sorry_!!!!!! Happy birthday!!!”

The omegas ran to Konoha, giggling all the way, and hugged and dog-piled him on the hospital bed as he laughed; the weight seemed to be lifted off everyone’s shoulders at this display of affection, and Yaku became brave enough to step forward.

“To keep the merriness going…I have an announcement to make.” He said. Yuki looked at him in confusion, sitting up against Akinori. “This isn’t official, but…in the near future…you can all look forward to attending a wedding.”

“Umm…Yaku?” Terushima questioned. “What are you talking about? Are you going to propose to Konoha if his pregnancy test comes back positive?”

“No!” Morisuke blushed. “I meant me and Shibayama!”

“Oohhhhh!!!”

 

The alphas began teasing and whooping at Yaku, which made Shibayama bury his head in the covers from embarrassment—underneath all the fabric, however, he was smiling.

Bobata glanced over to see if Arata was enjoying this as much as he was; when he caught the omega’s eyes, Tsucchi _winked_ at him. Kazuma swallowed nervously.

 

Terushima turned, seeing that Takeharu was coming over to him.

 

“Hey,” He said with a smile, slowly taking one of the omega’s hands. “You okay?”

Futamata nodded sweetly, inching closer to Yuuji.

“So…I saw you give Yuki a kiss. I did a lot today too, you know—I feel as if I’m missing my reward. So where’s my kiss, Haru?” Terushima grinned.

That grin was wiped right off his lips when Haru leaned closer, his chest pressed right up against the alpha’s, his hot lips now grazing over the shell of his ear. The whisper Haru gave was nothing short of innocent.

 

“It’s in Bel Air.”

 

~~~-~~~

 

_9 months later…_

 

Having landed in California an hour ago, Terushima and the rest of the crew were driving in style, headed straight for Bel Air, a good half-hour away from Los Angeles. Of course they had taken a vacation after all the shit they had to deal with after the death and disappearance of Suguru Daisho…Akaashi and Yaku had a lot of covering-up to do, and it took a good five-months for everything to calm down. People were asking for hitmen left and right, wondering who the hell Suguru had run off with, if he had killed Tanji then fled with his money; in actuality, Shiratorizawa’s money had been evenly distributed between the remainder of Tanji’s man (the group now being “refurnished” by Eita Semi and Wakatoshi Ushijima) and the Delicate Roses. The rate of prostitution fell in their region, though it continued as an underground method of income in places such as Date Tech and Sejoh; during the past nine-months, the Roses were able to get in contact with their families. There were high emotions during this time, as the omegas struggled between staying in Tokyo, where jobs were offered to them left and right from Fukurodani and Karasuno alike, or going back to their hometowns, where their families had been pining and worrying about them for over ten-years. All of them decided to stick together, as that was how things had been since forever, but they all made sure to reconnect with their loved ones, visiting them frequently and making up for lost time.

 

Terushima, on the other hand, never informed his parents of Yachi’s fate.

 

The couples driving down the strip to Bel Air included Kazuma Bobata and Arata Tsuchiyu (though they weren’t “officially” an item yet, despite Terushima’s colorful rumors), Chikara Ennoshita and Tadashi Yamaguchi (the former who _finally_ got his driver’s license after all these years), Morisuke Yaku and Yuki Shibayama (who may or may not have made secret plans to elope during their time in Bel Air), Akinori Konoha and Haruki Komi (who were a strange, lazily entertaining pair indeed), and, of course, Yuuji Terushima and Futamata Takeharu.

Takeharu had gotten to drive his boyfriend’s rented yellow convertible for a good twenty-miles, and was currently leaned over the cup holder so that he could let Yuuji wrap an arm around his shoulder like a cool kid. They were both wearing black sunglasses, t-shirts, shorts and matching grins as they drove in front of the other couples. This was the happiest Haru had ever been, and to think, they couldn’t even _see_ Bel Air yet. They were so damn close—the sun was bearing down on their shoulders, the light wind buffering whatever song was on the radio; they could practically smell the beach from the highway, and were eager to arrive, after all these torturous, stressful, _demanding_ years of being enslaved by Tanji Washijo for sexual purposes in the entertainment business.

 

The Delicate Roses were no more. Instead of a prosperous empire of amiable, wanted omegas, the boys running around Tokyo were only known as Haru, Shibayama, Ennoshita, Yamaguchi, Arata, and Konoha.

 

This trip had been a long time coming; Haru’s heart was beating out of his chest, stuck in ecstasy over the realization that this dream wasn’t a dream it all—it was reality. His brain was shocked. After his wishes, his _terrifying_ _desperation_ , his untouchable dreams…Bel Air really existed. And it was in reach.

Bel Air was in _reach_.

Then again…being with Terushima for the last nine months, being so free…that felt like Bel Air, too.

 

“It’s so hot here!” Haru exclaimed, tapping Terushima on the nose as he tried to distract from how heated his skin was getting. “Aren’t you _hot_ , Terushima?”

“Well of course,” Yuuji smirked confidently. “But I can’t control what you think.”

Takeharu giggled and pushed away from the alpha to lean over the other side like a dog, squinting, in hopes of seeing something interesting. He remembered how he had nearly wept with joy when Yuuji told him where they were going…it seemed like such a distant memory, when he used to stay up late at night wishing for Bel Air, wishing for Yachi to be alive again—but the time for wishing was over. Haru now had a steady job, a steady alpha boyfriend who managed to bring out the fun side of the omega, as their mischievous minds even shocked Bobata, who called it a poisonous combination of lightning and thunder—there was no more reason to be afraid of his dreams, because, as Haru exclaimed to Shibayama, “They’re _just_ in my _reeeaCH_!”

 

“See anything?” Terushima asked with a smile. His smile had changed over nine-months; Bobata teased him about how much softer it was, but Yuuji didn’t care. As long as Haru understood what that smile stood for, he didn’t care if all of Japan’s yakuzas teased him about it.

“Mmm…not sure…”

Haru squinted under the sun’s blinding, but beautiful rays, trying to find anything that would give them a hint as to what was ahead. As Terushima stepped on the gas, something in the far-off distance caught Haru’s eye; it glimmered, then became clearer the closer they got. Yuuji slowed down just a little, allowing Haru to focus in on the object.

 

It was a sign pointing them in the right direction.

 

**BEL AIR**

**22 MILES AHEAD**

Haru gasped and covered his mouth, sinking back into the car seat; _I’m here_ , the omega thought in a slight panic. _I’m really here? In Bel Air, California? This is a dream…what if I wake-up and this was all just a dream? What if I’m actually dead? What if I died?!_

“Breathe, Haru!”

Terushima gave a cackling laugh and pressed his foot on the rest of the gas pedal, finally snapping his boyfriend back to reality; the brown-haired puppy looked over in amazement, shuffling over to grab at Yuuji’s shirt, in hopes of his mind realizing that this wasn’t a dream—it was so, _so_ much better.

“ _I_ — _E_ — _Bel Air_!” Takeharu squealed in disbelief, a smile attempting to appear on his lips. “It’s—I— _Bel Air, Terushima_!!!”

“That’s right. Good job, Haru, you know your geography!”

Haru didn’t even hear Terushima’s teasing; his eyes turned right again, drifting aimlessly, filling the blank road with images from his beautiful imagination, swans and lyrics, sunsets and vines, bleeding roses with petals falling in between thighs, poison ivy, decaying brick of old motels with fountains in the back…

 

_Bel Air._

 

Haru turned to Terushima with a smile. It was a breathtaking smile, one that made Yuuji do a double-take and ease on the gas pedal, just so he wouldn’t be endangering both of their lives—his was mostly on the edge of unconsciousness, but at least Haru would be safe, because Yuuji didn’t have such an intoxicating smile, or even anything so purely intoxicating _about_ him. He stared at that bright smile, and wondered how it had even been created; even when Haru was an enslaved, controlled, completely _dominated_ omega…he still smiled like that.

How? …Because he was Haru.

“You um…you…” Terushima coughed. This was a big moment—he didn’t know how to word it. “Are you happy? Are you happy, Haru?”

 

Takeharu smiled even more.

 

“Yes,” He nodded. “I’m happy.”

 

Yuuji could only sit back and try to keep one hand on the wheel as Haru leaned across the cupholder, and kissed his lips for the first time.

 

There aren’t really any words that could describe it; Takeharu was pleased and amazed at Yuuji’s gentleness, how he didn’t press into it too much, because that wasn’t what the moment called for. Their kiss was precious, sweet, everything in between. Terushima tasted chocolate, something like…flowers, maybe, fresh pollen from a yellow rose. The omega’s lips were velvety, smooth, _perfect_. Takeharu tasted everything he imagined Yuuji to taste like. Oranges, freshly peeled in the early hours of the California morning, sunshine, burning hot and rosy pink, that smirk ever present between their combined lips. Haru wasn’t able to smile, too lost in the moment to do anything but flutter his eyelids shut, and press a little deeper into the kiss.

 

When they pulled apart, Terushima’s smirk had grown into that classic look, and he put an arm around Haru, pulling him closer as the light wind warmed-up. The final sign pointing them to Bel Air was the first thing they saw when they came down to earth.

 

“Welcome to Bel Air, Haru.”

 

_Roses, Bel Air, Take me there_

_I’ve been waiting to meet you_

_Grenadine sunshine, and it fades sublime_

_Darling I’m waiting to greet you_

_Come to me baby…_

 

_Fin._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay happy endings! Thanks for reading, and look forward to the next fic in this series, a oneshot that gives background to Fukurodani and Daisho Suguru--until then, enjoy my October fic about a certain Haikyuu Halloween Wedding..................  
> YeEtttt!

**Author's Note:**

> It's difficult making Terushima nice...I know everyone has a nice side, but it's strange to write because we've really never seen him as anyone other than a sparky, confident, cool bastard...oh well! More action to come...


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